


YGO Blade Runner

by Lsama_no_miko



Category: Blade Runner (Movies), Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lsama_no_miko/pseuds/Lsama_no_miko
Summary: The miko is at it again with another of her mutilations, um I mean adaptations. This time it's one of the awesome and classic sci-fi film Blade Runner. Die hard Blade Runner fans STAY AWAY! You have been warned.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own YGO or Blade Runner, so please don’t sue. Also all of you major Blade Runner fans may want to stay away ‘cause I am going to probably mangle this artistic and cinematic masterpiece. Please forgive me for what I am about to do.

_Replicate: (v) to make a copy of._

_Replica: (n) 1.A copy made at a smaller scale of the original. 2. An exact copy._

_Replicant (n) An android that is an exact copy of a specific human, or is indistinguishable from a human._

Prologue

 

            By the end of the 20th century, the Earth had become nigh uninhabitable due to the breakout of a third world war now known as World War Terminus. During the fallout from the war, the world’s animal population had slowly begun to die out forcing many farms to shut down and close.

            However, thanks to the Kaiba Corporation, the world’s leading robotics and genetics company at the time, many of the remaining animals were able to be cloned into a combination of flesh and electronics. Sadly though, very few could afford these simulated beings. Also most of Earth’s population had emigrated to colonies that had only just begun to be formed, leaving the once blue and green planet a desolate place. Those who couldn’t afford the price or pass the rigorous physicals to leave were forced to remain under Kaiba’s iron rule and constant acid rain that poured down.

            Early in the 21st century, the Kaiba Corporation advanced the field robotics into the Nexus phase – a being virtually identical to a human – known as a Replicant. The Nexus 6 replicants were superior in strength and agility and at least equal to in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them.

            Replicants were used in space as slaves, in the hazardous exploration colonization of other planets.

            After a brutal rebellion by a Nexus 6 combat team on one of these colonies, these beings were banished from mankind’s home world. Those who dared break this exile were executed, that is if they were caught.

            Special law enforcement squads known as Blade Runner Units were created to hunt down and shoot upon identification these rogue Replicants. They didn’t call it execution though, they called it ‘retirement’.

 

 

***************************************

 

            The spiky haired boy wandered aimlessly through the dark streets of the colony. His head hung low as he hugged and rubbed his bare arms in an attempt to fight off the increasing desert cold. He couldn’t believe he’d just been replaced and tossed out like yesterday’s garbage. Wasn’t he good enough for that man? Did he do something wrong? What was so special about that ‘latest model’ that had shown up at the door a scant few hours earlier? He quickly ducked into a small alley when he saw a couple men stumble from one of the local bars.

            “You really should have brought a jacket,” said a voice causing him to squeak and jump, “You’ll freeze, dressed like that.” Shaking fearfully, the boy backed away when the person started coming towards him. He blinked in awe at the man’s long, spiky white hair and dark chocolate eyes. He blushed slightly when he noticed the man’s slim, yet muscular figure. Chuckling, the man jumped several feet into the air and snatched a piece of red cloth that had been hanging from a clothesline from an apartment above. The boy’s eyes widened in awe as he landed deftly and silently. “Here,” he said offering the red robe. “It won’t bite,” he said chuckling again when the boy made no move.

            Blushing the boy shyly took the robe and put it over his skimpy black leather outfit. “T-Thanks,” he murmured softly. The man smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair.

            “You get trashed?” the man asked after a few moments of awkward silence. “That why you’re out here where these wolves can get at you?”

            “H-He got the latest model,” the boy said forlornly.

            “Poor kid,” the man said in sympathy, “Which one are you?”

            “N-Nexus 5.”

            “Thought so. Not many of us sixes in this shithole of the universe.”

            “You’re a six?!” the boy cried in awe. He knew this man wasn’t a human, no one could’ve jumped that high to begin with. He just didn’t know which model.

            “The latest in combat to be exact,” the man said with a mixture of bitterness and pride. “I just decided to take a little vacation to Earth.”

            “Y-You rebelled?! I-I didn’t know sixes could do that! Why?!”

            The white haired replicant laughed. “All of us are capable of rebellion, little one. Even you. Your master just didn’t give you reason to did he?”

            The smaller Nexus model nodded. It was no surprise that he’d gotten tired of his life of servitude to a rich perverted bastard, but the man who had owned him never mistreated him in anyway – until today, when he chucked him out the door as soon as he signed for the delivery of the newer model.

            “He just threw me away!” the boy yelled banging his fist against a garbage can, startling a stray robotic cat.

            The taller replicant eye’s glowed red for a moment, angry that a kinsman of his could be treated so coldly, especially one who was absolutely scrumptious looking as this poor waif. The eyes softened just as quickly and he drew the other replicant closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller lithe frame. “You’re coming with me,” he said in a tone that left  **no** room for objection.

            The boy nodded, besides, what else could he do? He had nowhere to go. It was either live on the streets, letting whoever came along to use him as they pleased to survive or go with the rather handsome replicant. In his mind, the second choice had been looking better every moment. He just wished his grandfather had lived a bit longer so he could have said a proper goodbye.

            “Oi! There ya are ‘Kura!” said a blond teen carrying several backpacks entering the alley. “I thought ya said to meet at tha club. Mal ‘n’ I’ve been looking all over fer ya!” At that, another blond come from behind the taller one.

            “Ooo, what do we have here?” the second blond leered, noticing the now shaking boy in the white haired man’s arms.

            “He’s not for you Malik,” snapped the albino, obviously the leader of this little group. The tanned blond, called Malik pouted, but obeyed. “He just got trashed. We’re taking him with us.”

            “Geez, poor lil’ guy,” the taller blond said, “These bastards really make me sick sometimes. I’m Jou,” he said holding out his hand to the boy.

            “Y-Yugi,” the boy said meekly, not taking his hand.

            “Yugi huh?” the other blond queried, staring hard at the boy, “It’s cute. I’m Malik, by the way.”

            Yugi nodded, blushing and backing slightly into the leader’s chest. The albino replicant chuckled at the smaller’s shyness and ruffled his hair again. “Welcome to our little rebellion, Yugi. My name is Bakura.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my dearest sister of my heart, Sherabo (over at FFNet) whose advice – which was a huuuuuuuuuge help for this part BTW – and kind words I could never live without. Many, many, many thanks sis!!!

Domino, November 2019

            The brown haired man fiddled with the Voight-Kampff machine as he waited for the ‘suspect’ to come. He’d administered the test dozens of times before and knew the machine was in tip-top order, but he didn’t believe taking chances. There was still the chance of the detector breaking down. He was about to go over the machine once again when the door to the small office opened and a blond boy wearing a green jumpsuit entered. A small name tag on the suit read ‘Jounouchi’.

            The blond stared a few moments at the man’s odd single spiked hairdo before sitting across from the man. The two exchanged a few words of small talk as the brunet adjusted the machine so that the scanners would line up with the boy’s hazel eyes correctly.

            “So what’s this test fer again?” Jou asked nervously, fidgeting in his seat. “I don’t do well with tests, ya know. I get kinda nervous.”

            “Could you sit still?” the man asked, slightly annoyed that he had to adjust the machine again.

            “Oops sorry,” Jou said sheepishly. “So is this an I.Q. test or somethin’? I already had one of ‘em though.”

            The brunet ignored the boy and sat down once the machine had been correctly aligned. “It’s really important that you answer as quick as you can,” he said, pulling out a folder.

            “Uh… okay.”

            “One one eight seven at Hunterwasser…” the brunet mumbled as he glanced over the boy’s files.

            “’Ey… that’s the hotel,” the blond said, recognizing his address.

            “Huh?” the brunet asked.

            “That’s where I live,” replied the boy.

            “Oh. Nice place?”

            “’S alright I guess. I-Is that part of the test?”

            “No. Just checking some facts.”

            “Oh.”

            “You’re in the desert. You’re walking along when…”

            “Is that the test?” Jou interrupted.

            “Yes. You’re in the desert. You’re walking along when you see a…”

            “Which one?” the blond asked, interrupting again.

            “What?” asked the man, getting a bit annoyed at the constant interruptions.

            “Which desert?” the boy asked again.

            “Doesn’t matter. It’s just a test,” the brunet replied.

            “Yeah, but how come I’m there?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe you got fed up or something.” He could feel a few veins starting to bulge from his forehead. He really hated the stupid ones. They always asked way too many questions. “So anyway, you’re in the desert walking along and you see a tortoise coming toward you…”

            “What’s a tortoise?” the blond asked again.

            The man let out an annoyed sigh. “You know what a turtle is?”

            “Yeah. Ain’t never seen one though.”

            “Same thing.”

            “Oh.”

            “You go over and flip the tortoise over on its back…”

            “So do they make these questions fer ya or do ya write them down?” the blond asked, interrupting for the umpteenth time.

            The man was sore pressed to ‘retire’ the boy right there and then, but then the captain would have his head for lunch if he’d make a mistake and retire a human instead of a replicant. Sighing again, he ignored the boy’s question and went on to the next part. “The tortoise is lying on its back, its belly cooking in the sun. It’s trying to get back on its feet, but can’t. It needs help, but you’re not helping.”

            “Whadda ya mean I ain’t helpin’?!” snapped the blond, shooting up from his seat.

            “You’re not helping the tortoise, why Jounouchi?” The boy glared at him dangerously, sensing it could get ugly, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Look, they’re just questions Jounouchi. See?” he asked, holding up a few sheets of neatly typed lines. “This is a test that checks your feelings. That’s all.” The boy continued to glare at him, but sat back down, his anger cooled a bit. The brunet readjusted the machine again before asking. “Can we go on?” Jou nodded, not liking the test one bit.

            “Describe the good things that come into your mind about your mother,” the man said again, peering at the readouts on the machine’s screens. The machine starts to beep ominously.

            “My mother?” Jou asked.

            “Yeah.”

            “I’ll tell ya about my mother,” the blond says coolly. There was a sudden pop and the man went flying into the wall, chair and all, his coffee thermos shooting several feet into the air before raining down onto the desk, machine and floor.

            Jou stood up calmly and raised the tiny gun he’d smuggled into the building. Without a single blink, he shot the man yet again, sending him through the wall into another office.

 

**************************************************

 

            “A new life awaits you on the off world colonies!” proclaimed the advertising blimp hovering above, a holographic screen projecting the words Off World, Adventure, and New Life in brilliant neon green. “The chance to begin in a golden land of opportunity and adventure!”

            The spiky haired man shook his head as he read his newspaper. He’d heard that same drivel over and over, day in and day out. He was really tired of it, in fact he was practically tired of everything. Domino never changed. It was always raining, the few remaining people of Japan had decided to live there all at the same time so it was a constant sea of umbrella bearing people every single day and night. Just like tonight and every other night since he and his wife Anzu had divorced.

            She just up and left for the country, saying that she was annoyed with the noise and filth of the city. The truth was she couldn’t stand his work. Couldn’t live with the constant worry of having him coming home in a body bag. So she dumped a stack of divorce papers and a rather dingy apartment on him while she was probably having the time of her life.

            He sighed, putting down the newspaper. He was about to walk away, head for home when one of the many noodle bar owners started shouting and waving him over, hoping to get another customer and hence more money. Deciding he had nothing better to do – not to mention he was kind of hungry – he strode over to the White Dragon and squeezed himself in between the other customers already eating. He took the blue jacket off his shoulders and shook off the rain before putting it back on and sitting down. He really should get himself a new umbrella, he had chided himself.

            The old man smiled warmly at him, eager to make another sale. After glancing at the rain soaked and grimy menu that had been placed in front of him, the spiky haired man pointed to a particular item and held up four fingers. The old man nodded, still grinning while holding up two fingers.

            “No,” the man said, “Four.” He held up two fingers on each hand. “Two, two. Four.” The old man made an ‘ahh’ sound then rushed to get the man’s order ready.

            Within moments a nice steaming bowl of noodles was placed before him. Nodding appreciatively at the old man, he slid a few bills over the counter which the old man gleefully took. However, his meal was not to be enjoyed in peace. As soon as he was about to start digging in, two men came up behind him, one in a cop uniform while the other was dressed in tight black leather pants, a black tank top and red vest. A red headband held back his hair, which had been pulled back into a high ponytail. A dice earring hung from one ear.

            The cop tapped him on the shoulder while the other leaned over. “It would be best if you’d follow me,” he said in a mixture of Japanese, Hungarian, German and various other languages which had become to be known as ‘city speak’.

            The spiky haired man was fluent in ‘city speak’ as well, but wasn’t in the mood to let them know that. He waved the shop owner over to act as an interpreter.

            “If you don’t comply,” the fancy dressed man said again, “I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

            “He say you under arrest, if you no go with him,” the old man replied.

            “Tell him he’s got the wrong guy,” the spiky haired man said before stuffing noodles into his mouth.

            The black haired man frowned, knowing full well what he was up to. He’s played these games before. “Wrong guy my ass, Atem,” he said, “Everyone knows about the boogeyman of Domino.”

            The spiky haired man, Atem, flinched at the word ‘boogeyman’. Gods he  _hated_  that nickname. Many of those who had seen him work back then used to call him that, especially when he was chasing down a rather difficult target.

            “There’s only one Blade Runner I know who goes by that nickname,” the taller raven haired man said again.

            “Hey say you Blade Runner,” the old man interpreted.

            “Tell him I’m eating,” spat Atem, refusing to budge.

            The taller man then turned to the old man, seeing that Atem wasn’t about to give him the time of day. “Would you please tell this baka here that I’m here on Captain Ishtar’s orders and that he didn’t care what condition I brought him in.”

            Atem continued to eat, though he did flinch slightly at the mention of the name Ishtar. It couldn’t be good if his old boss was involved.

            “Hey say you idiot,” the old man spoke up, “He say boss Ishtar tell him bring you. He say boss man no care how you look.”

            Sighing and putting down his chopsticks, Atem turned to the raven haired man. “Marik huh?” he asked. The man nodded. Resigning himself to a possible nasty fate, which he’d so desperately hoped he’d finally gotten away from, the spiky haired man rose from his seat and followed the two to a nearby waiting hover car known as a spinner, but not before quickly grabbing his dinner.

            “You know,” began the raven haired man, still using city speak, as the cop started the spinner’s ascent, “I told the captain I could handle things on my own. Give me the job and I’ll take those phonies down real good.” He mimed shooting a gun. “But noooooo Ishtar kept on insisting I’d go and get you. He thinks you’re hot stuff, the most badass Blade Runner around. Hmph! You don’t look like much to me. Just look at those clothes, when was the last time you washed them. And what’s with that hair? It’s a good thing you’re not with the department anymore or we’d have our reputation ruined.”

            Atem just ignored him, continuing to eat his noodles.

 

*****************************************************

 

            A tall man with tan skin and spiky platinum blond hair sat at a paper littered desk, going over that day’s reports when the door to his office burst open. He looked up at the rather annoyed, if not irate, spiky haired man at the doorway, a taller raven haired man just behind him.

            “Hi ya, Atem!” he greeted, smugly smirking.

            “If you weren’t such a stubborn jackass, I wouldn’t have to resort to such measures,” the blond said, “Have a seat ‘pharaoh’.” Atem continued to frown and glare at his former boss, especially since he kept insisting on using his old codename in spite of his current status.

            The raven haired man glared at the shorter brunet briefly, but said nothing before pushing past him and sat on a chair in one of the corners. He wanted to be close by, just in case the former cop did anything rash.

            “Oh come on!” Marik whined, “Don’t be like that I’ve got four skin jobs running loose in my city.”

            The spiky haired man reluctantly sat down and waited for the police captain to explain further. The blond pulled out a bottle of beer and two glasses. He poured himself a drink then one for his former lieutenant.

            “Like I said, there’s a group of skin jobs running around. They somehow managed to hijack a shuttle, killed the crew and passengers. Now they’re here. The wrecked shuttle was found floating not too far from here that’s how we know they’re in the city.”

            “Kind of embarrassing don’t you think?” Atem said, reaching for the drink, giving Marik a nod of thanks.

            “Only if someone finds out,” the captain said, glaring slightly at him, “which by the way won’t happen ‘cause you’re going to find them and take care of them.”

            “The hell I will,” spat Atem after taking a long swig of his beer, “You forgot. I don’t work here anymore. Tell Honda to do it, he’s good at this.”

            “Actually I did,” Marik said, frowning at his untouched glass.

            The spiky haired man grasped his glass tightly, not liking the sudden sinking feeling he got from his friend’s response. “So?”

            “He’s still breathing.” Marik took a swig from his glass. “That is unless someone unplugs him.” Atem’s crimson eyes widened in shock. He remembered the tough as nails brunet and how good he was at fighting. These rouge replicants had to have been extremely powerful to have rendered one of Domino’s finest Blade Runners virtually useless. Either that or Honda had gotten sloppy, which was highly unlikely given the man’s no nonsense way of handling things.

            “He was good,” the blond said taking another drink, “But not good enough. You’re better, that’s why I need you pal. I need that old Blade Runner magic of yours.”

            Atem stared at the blond for a few moments, as if considering his request. “I was quit when I came in here, I’m twice as quit now. See you around Marik. Thanks for the beer by the way,” he said getting up to leave.

            “Stop right there, pharaoh!” yelled the blond, making the shorter man pause as he reached for the doorknob. “You know the score as well as I do, if you’re not a cop, you’re nobody!”

            The raven haired cop stared at the spiky haired man coolly as he placed the tiny origami bird he’d been working on onto the table next to the chair. Curious as to what Atem’s response would be, he remained silent, continuing to watch the scene with keen interest.

            Said Blade Runner turned around and walked back to the desk. “No choice huh?” he asked.

            “’Fraid not my friend,” the blond replied.

            Once again resigning himself, Atem allowed the taller blond to lead him and the still shadowing brunet to the resource room. Marik then sat at one of the computers and began typing. Within a few seconds, a video of Honda’s V-K test of a blond boy began playing. The blond glanced over at his shorter friend and inwardly sighed at his apparent bored expression.

            “We got a report of an escape from several of the off world colonies a couple weeks ago,” he said, ignoring the video for the moment, “Seven replicants. Five male, two female. They massacred twenty-three people then hijacked a shuttle.” That got the shorter man interested for he quickly turned from the video, curious, “Air patrol spotted the ship in the sea. Well, three nights ago, they were spotted trying to break into the Kaiba Corp. building. Two got cooked trying to get through the electro-field, we lost the others.”

            Atem went back to watching the video, but gave a curt nod for the captain to go on.

            “We thought they might try to sneak in again as new employees so I had Honda run V-K tests on all the new employees. Looks like he got a live one.”

            The video continued playing while Marik began typing again. The video paused then shrunk and moved to one of the corners on the screen, freezing on a close up of the boy. At the bottom of the screen, it read:

 

**Replicant (M) Des: Jounouchi, Katsuya**

**Nexus 6  N6MAC41717**

**Incept Date: 25 January 2017**

**Func: Combat/Loader (Nuc. Fiss.)**

**Phys: Lev. A                Ment: Lev. C**

 

            “That’s Jounouchi,” Marik said, “Heavy ammo loader on one of the military’s off world bases. He can lift four atomic loads all day and night. The only way he can get hurt, is if you kill him.”

            “What I don’t get is,” Atem said, taking in the info on the screen, “why did they even bother come here? They should know they’re not exactly legal down here. It’s weird for them to do that. And why Kaiba Corp.?”

            “You tell me, pal,” Marik said turning to him, “That’s what you’re here for.” He went back to typing and the screen changed to a rotating picture of the head a young man around his twenties or so with long white hair and sharp piercing chocolate eyes.

            “Who’s that?” the spiky haired man asked.

            “Nexus 6, Bakura Touzoukou, incept date 2016,” replied the blond as he continued to type. The picture, like the video shrunk and the info on the man appeared below.

 

**Replicant (M) Des: Touzoukuou, Bakura**

**Nexus 6  N6MAA10816**

**Incept Date: 2 September 2016**

**Func: Combat, Colonization Defense Prog.**

**Phys: Lev. A                Ment: Lev. A**

            “He’s a combat model,” the blond said not bothering to wait for him to take in the info and continued to type. “Optimum self sufficiency, he’s probably the leader.”

            The picture changed again to a blond boy around eighteen or so. Atem’s eyes widened when he noticed his resemblance to his friend, however the hair was less spiky and much longer and his lilac eyes were a shade or two lighter.

            The blond beside him let out a slight chuckle at Atem’s surprise. He too was surprised, but not by much since he knew Kaiba had their way of acquiring one’s DNA without them knowing it. The information changed as well as the blond typed.

 

**Replicant (M) Des: Ishtar, Malik**

 

            Atem’s eyes bulged again, but said nothing as the rest of the info on the current model came up to read:

 

**Nexus 6  N6MAB61216**

**Incept Date: 23 December 2016**

**Func: Retrained (9 Feb., 2018) Polit. Homicide**

**Phys: Lev. A                Ment: Lev. B**

            “That’s Malik,” Marik said with just a hint of pride and jealousy, the ladies always thought him to be rather handsome and the blond knew it. Having a copy of himself running around, no matter how good looking, was a serious threat to his masculinity. “He’s been trained for off world assassination. You’ve heard of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ right, well he’s both. I’d watch myself around him if I were you.” He went back to typing, not bothering to warn his former co-worker.

            A picture of a spiky haired boy about sixteen or so – though he looked much younger due to the huge violet eyes – appeared on the screen, earning a gasp from the spiky haired man. If he didn’t know better, Atem would have sworn he was looking at a mirror image of himself.

            “The fourth skin job is Yugi,” Marik said, ignoring the heated glare Atem had been giving him the past few seconds. It was obvious the shorter man didn’t appreciate a look alike of himself being referred to as a ‘skin job’.

            Just as with the others, information appeared at the bottom of the screen.

 

**Replicant (M) Des: Yugi**

**Nexus 5  N5MAB21416**

**Incept Date: 4 June 2016**

**Func: Leisure**

**Phys: Lev. A                Ment: Lev. B**

 

            “A basic Nexus 5 pleasure model, a standard item these days for the idle rich and military on the off world colonies.” The blond stopped typing and turned to his friend who hadn’t taken his eyes off the boy’s picture. Marik allowed himself a few seconds of amusement before going on. “Kaiba designed them to copy us humans in everyway, except emotions. They thought if let alone long enough, a replicant could develop emotions on their own so Kaiba had a kind of failsafe added to the Nexus models.”

            “Which is?”

            “A four year life span,” was Marik’s matter-of-fact reply.

            “So that’s why…” Atem murmured.

            “Well,” Marik said pouring himself a beer, which he had brought with him. “it appears that Honda found out that the V-K machine doesn’t work too great on a Nexus 6. Kaiba has volunteered to allow us to test it again on their demo model. I just hope it was a glitch because if V-K doesn’t work, we’re up the creek without a paddle.”

            Atem said nothing as he took the beer the blond was offering him and downed it in one shot. He rose from his seat, leaving the blond and his raven haired shadow.

 

~TBC~


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

            The tall brunet lay on his back in the glass coffin like breathing apparatus, eyes focused on the glowing screen above his face as the illuminated text paused so he could read.

            “What are you reading?” said a voice from the shadows. Honda paused and rolled his eyes to see who had bothered to visit. He really didn’t have to, since he’d know that voice anywhere, but he had to make sure – no one ever came to visit him, not even his family.

            “Hey Atem old buddy!” he rasped, “Just an old fave of mine, Treasure Island. Good ta see you though.” The spiky haired man frowned. “I look like crap don’t I?”

            “You?” Atem replied, “Nah, you’ve never looked better. Best I’ve ever seen you,” he joked, though there was bitterness laced in the mocking tone.

            “Quit the comedy Atem!” Honda spat angrily, “Look at me for crying out loud! That skin job wrecked me up dammed good!” The incapacitated man let out a low hiss as tears welled up in his eyes.

            “Blew it big time, huh?”

            “Well, duh! We’re in real shit here, Atem. These new replicants aren’t like the old ones you ‘n’ I used to go after. They’re no different than any of us!”

            “Mind telling me about it?” the shorter man asked, leaning slightly on the coffin.

            Honda was silent for a few moments before complying with his former colleague’s request. “A few days ago, Kaiba Corp. found three perps in the records room. They killed one of ‘em but the others got away.” Atem nodded, giving his friend a chance to rest before continuing. “They do the usual autopsy on the one that they did get, and bingo! It was one of ‘em skin jobs that ‘jacked that shuttle. It was a really fancy model too, Nexus 6 combat type.”

            “I hear those Nexus 6 are pretty hot.”

            The brunet gave out a bitter laugh, causing him to cough uncontrollably. “Thing is, they didn’t know until  _three hours_  into the autopsy,” he said once he was able to talk again. “It was just like cutting up one of us, no ID marks, nothing. So Ishtar had me go down there to check on all the new employees.” Atem nodded, letting him know that the blond captain had told him.

            “Well, it got pretty boring after doing twenty six normies. Then in walks this big guy, Jou something. Looked not that smart, but typical looking kid. Tall though…”

            “So you VK’d him?”

            Honda was silent for a few more moments, not sure on how to tell him. “Hate ta tell you this pal, but I really don’t think the machine works on these new sixes. For a bit I thought I was onto something but…” The taller man started coughing again, wincing as pain laced through his body. “We’re in some serious trouble Atem. Those things are practically us! They’re as bad as a disease I tell ya!”

            “Easy, Honda, easy” Atem said, trying to calm his coughing friend, noticing the increased beeping of the machinery surrounding him. “I’m going over to Kaiba’s tomorrow. They’ve got a six and I’m going to VK it.”

            Honda nodded, panting heavily. “Do me a favor pal, push that button over there,” he rasped after his breathing calmed down a bit, pointing to a small reddish button on the side of the coffin with his eyes.

            “Sure,” the shorter replied, pressing it. “What’s it do?”

            “It’s… for… pain,” he gasped, tears streaming down his face.

 

************************************************

 

            The next day found the former Blade Runner standing in the combination office/bedroom of one Dr. Seto Kaiba. Atem looked around boredly at the crispy clean of the white and blue room, which practically took half the top floor of the Kaiba Corp. tower. Suddenly a bluish white owl flew past him, startling him slightly. Entranced, he watched as it stopped and perched itself on an ornate silver perch off to the side of the CEO’s desk. For the briefest of moments, the bird’s eyes glowed red in the fleeting shadows caused by the early morning light.

            “You like our owl?” said a voice from behind.

            The spiky haired man whirled around to see a boy about fifteen or sixteen with light green hair and blue eyes wearing a forties style tailored white suit. “It’s artificial?” he asked, clearly taken by the boy’s good looks.

            “Of course it is,” the boy said, approaching him, the barest hint of pride in his voice.

            “Must be expensive.”

            “Very,” he replied, the smirk on his face almost imperceptible. “I’m Noa.”

            He nodded, acknowledging the boy. “Atem,” he said, returning the introduction.

            “It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public,” Noa said.

            “Replicants are like any other machine,” the spiky haired man said, slightly annoyed at the boy’s someone snotty attitude. “They’re either a benefit or a hazard. They’re a benefit, then it’s not my problem.”

            “May I ask you a personal question?” the boy asked with equal annoyance.

            “Sure,” he said sitting down in one of the chairs provided to visiting business associates.

            “Have you ever retired a human by mistake?”

            Taken back by the unexpected question, Atem stared at the boy for a few moments. “No,” he replied.

            “But in your position that is a risk,” Noa retorted, coldly.

               “Is this supposed to be an empathy test?” a new voice asked entering from a door hidden slightly behind one of the marble columns that framed the room. “Capillary dilation of the so-called blush response.. fluctuation of the pupil involuntary dilation of the iris......” The speaker was a man about Atem’s age. He had short chestnut brown hair and icy blue eyes, that pierced right through a person. A permanent glare was plastered on his rather handsome face. The Blade Runner noted appreciatively at the black shirt and pants he wore under the strangely sleeveless white trench coat and black leather straps adorning his arms.

                “It’s called Voight-Kampff for short,” Atem replied, standing up.

               “Mr. Atem,” Noa said, coming to attention, “Dr. Seto Kaiba.”

               The shorter man nodded in acknowledgement.

               “I want you to demonstrate it,” the brunet demanded. “I want to see it work.”

               “On what subject?”

               “I want to see it on work on a human. I want to see a positive before I give you a negative.”

               “It won’t prove anything,” he protested.

               “Hmph. Just do it.”

               “On you?”

               “Try him,” the CEO replied motioning Noa to sit down at the other side of the desk. The boy smiled, obviously amused by the exchange as he went to obey.

               “It’s too bright in here,” Atem said, before setting up the VK machine.

               Without saying another word, Dr. Kaiba clapped his hands and the enormous wall sized shade slowly began to cover the window, blocking out the glaring sunlight. Within a few minutes, the spiky haired man had the lighting to his liking and the machine had been checked and properly adjusted.

               “You mind if I have some tea?” Noa asked, reaching for an exquisite tea setting that had been laid out earlier.

               “It won’t affect the test,” he replied, sitting down. Nodding gratefully, the boy poured himself a cup and took a dainty sip.

               “I’m going to ask a few questions,” Atem began, “Just try to be relaxed as possible, alright?” Noa nodded, taking another sip.

               After checking the adjustments again, the spiky haired man began. “It’s your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

               “I’d turn him in,” the boy replied coolly, “Things made from animal skin and fur is illegal.”

               “You have a son. He shows you his butterfly collection along with the killing jar.”

               “I’d take him to see a psychiatrist.”

               He glanced at the screen, nothing. “You’re watching TV. Suddenly, you see a wasp crawling on your arm.”

               “I’d kill it,” was another cold response as the boy sipped his tea.

               The machine still didn’t register anything. After pausing to take a sip of the tea himself, Atem went on with the test. “You’re reading a magazine. You come across a full page photo of a nude man.”

               “Is this to see if I am a replicant or a homosexual, Mr. Atem?” the boy shot back, obviously bored and slightly amused.

               Ignoring the boy’s impudence, he asked the next part of the question. “You show it to your wife. She likes it so much that she hangs it on the wall. The man is lying on a bearskin rug.”

               “I’d never let her.”

               “Oh? Why?

               “I should be enough.”

               Atem raised an eyebrow, but said nothing further. The boy was indeed rather good looking.

               “One last question,” he said after had spent the last two hours on the test. “You’re watching an old movie. There’s a party going on. The guests are dining on raw oysters.” The boy made a face of disgust, but said nothing. “The main course is boiled dog stuffed with rice. You find the main course to be more appealing to you than the oysters.”

               The boy refused to answer, but after glancing at the screen one last time, the taller man shut off the machine.

               “Well?” Kaiba asked, motioning for Noa to leave. The boy nodded before giving the Blade Runner a smile.

               “He’s a replcant, isn’t he?” Atem asked once the boy had left the room.

               “I am impressed,” Kaiba said, genuinely amazed. “How many does it usually take to spot one?”

               “About twenty, thirty cross-referenced.”

               “It took over a hundred with Noa,” the CEO said, rather smugly, obviously proud of his handiwork.

               “He doesn’t know does he?”

               There was a slight frown on Kaiba’s face. “I believe he’s beginning to suspect it though.”

               “That’s impossible!” spat the shorter of the two. “How can it  _not_  know what it is?!”

               “Commerce,” lectured Kaiba, “Is my business Mr. Atem. Our motto here is, ‘more human, than human.’ Noa’s an experimental model. However, my employees and I have begun to notice a strange obsession in our latest commercial types.” The spiky haired man glanced up at him expectantly as he began to pace a bit.

               “It was to be expected actually, since they are emotionally inexperienced and only have a few short years to store the experiences you and I take for granted every day. We found that we could control them better if we gave them a past of sorts.”

               “You’re talking about memories!” Kaiba just continued to look smug over his triumph. “So where’d you get these memories?”

               “In Noa’s case, I simply cloned what few viable brain cells my younger brother had and implanted them. What Noa remembers, is he remembers.”

               Atem shuddered. “Reminds me of this old movie I saw. Guy had bolts in his neck.” Kaiba refused to say anymore, just continued to smirk that smug smirk of his.

 

*****************************************************

 

               Later that evening, the spiky haired Blade Runner and the tall raven haired cop from the previous day, dashed between the falling acidic rain drops over to the hotel they’d driven to. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, Atem doubled checked the address before going in. Above them, the half lit neon sign read, ‘Yukon’.

               After his taller companion showed the proprietor his police badge and he explained the situation, the rather annoyed and grumpy old man led them down a dingy, refuse filled hall to one of the rooms. “He was in here,” he grumbled as he unlocked the door.

               Inside, wasn’t much better. It was dark and it smelled like, well it wasn’t one of those plug in air-fresheners. After a cursorily sweep of the room, he went to check the bathroom. He found the constant hum and flickering of the faulty florescent light attached to the wall to be annoying, so he hit the switch and turned it off. Grumbling inwardly, he soon realized that he needed that light to see. Flipping the switch back on, he found that the schizophrenic light had decided to stop flickering and humming to itself.

               Upon inspection, he came to dislike the management of this place more and more. The tub was just disgusting. In it was what appeared to be blood, rust, grime and only God knew what else. He was about to leave, when something shiny caught his eye. Steeling himself, Atem reached into the tub and picked up what appeared to be some kind of scale. Pulling out a small plastic evidence bag, he carefully placed the scale inside.

               The raven haired man glanced up at him as he came from the bathroom. Once again he said nothing, for nothing needed to be said. It was obvious that their target wasn’t around and probably wouldn’t be back at all. He finished the tiny origami figure of a man he’d busied himself with and placed on the dresser, watching and waiting as the shorter man went about the rest of the room, conducting a more thorough inspection.

               Stuffed in between neatly folded shirts in one of the dresser drawers was a stack of photos. Most of which were of a little blond boy and a strawberry blond, or perhaps, auburn haired girl. After going over them, he noticed one had a rather odd reflection in the mirror of the hotel room they were in. Deciding to take it, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket and indicated to his silent partner it was time to leave.

 

*************************************************************

 

               Outside the Yukon Hotel, a young man in a long black trench coat and long white haired stood waiting patiently for his companion to return. He glanced at his hand briefly as he flexed it into a fist, the knuckle joints cracking. “Time enough,” he whispered.

               He relaxed his hand and glanced up at the approaching footsteps. A slightly taller blond boy had come over to him. “Did you get your precious photos?” he asked.

               The boy frowned, clearly upset. “Somebody was there,” he said, fuming.

               “Who?” the albino asked, not liking where this was headed, “Men?” The blond nodded. “Policemen?” he asked again. The boy said nothing, just stood there feeling guilty. Sighing, the albino turned and started walking, the blond quickly following behind.

               They continued down the homeless ridden street of the slums, until they reached a building with an odd eyeball like sign over the door. Not bothering to knock, the white haired man opened the door and walked in. It took the blond a few seconds to realize that this was their next destination and rushed to follow his leader inside.

               The blond began to look around the strange lab like room and immediately began to get the creeps. There were aquarium like containers all over, and inside of them was nothing but – eyes! Eyes of every shape, size and color gazed sightlessly out from the clear liquid they had been so carefully placed.

               A boy with mint green hair and bug shaped glasses was wearing an old beat up fur type coat with several tubes and wires attached to it as he went about his work, the lab was way below freezing after all. He hadn’t noticed he had visitors until he felt a sharp yank on the tubes and wires of his coat.

               The boy turned around and let out a scream of fright before yelling, “You can’t come in here! How dare you!” He then noticed that these two intruders weren’t properly insulated. “Are you insane?! It’s freezing in here! Do ya wanna die?!”

               “We have questions Weevil,” the albino said, obviously unaffected by the sub-Antarctic temperatures.

               “I don’t care!” spat the boy, annoyed at having his work interrupted. “Get out!” The albino just smiled as he reached into one of the aquariums. The boy’s eyes quickly began to resemble the bug glasses as he watched him pull the appendage back out of the liquid nitrogen, virtually unharmed except for a thin layer of ice on the skin.

               Then it dawned on him. “Y-You’re a replicant!” Weevil stammered in recognition. The albino continued to smirk menacingly. “You’re not supposed to be here! I-It’s against the law! Get back up there where you belong!” he shouted, pointing to the sky.

               “Questions,” the albino said again with that dangerous smile.

               The blond strode around the boy and ripped out the wires and tubes from the coat, causing Weevil to scream. “N-No! D-Don’t I n-need that!” he protested. The blond ignored him and continued to rip the rest of the coat off of him.

               Seeing that the boy was now properly ‘persuaded’, the albino got down to business. “Morphology…” he began, “Longevity, incept dates…”

               “I-I d-don’t k-know that s-stuff!” the boy said, grasping onto his arms, trying desperately to warm up. “I-I j-just m-make e-eyes! O-Only eyes! P-Please g-give m-me n-nother c-coat!” he pleaded, barely able to point to the spare coat hanging nearby.

               “Really?” the albino replicant asked mockingly. “I thought it was feet or perhaps noses?”

               “P-Please m-my c-coat?” the eye designer pleaded in desperation. But neither of them moved. Weevil then tried another tactic, maybe if he appealed to their egos they would let him have the coat back. “Y-You’re a-a N-Nexus r-right?” The albino’s grin grew wider. “I-I k-knew it! I-I m-made y-your eyes!”

               There was a loud crash. Apparently, the blond had had enough of the creepy eyes staring at him constantly and knocked the nearest case over. Smirking amusedly, the slightly shorter replicant went back to ‘discussing’ with the eye designer. “If only you could see what I’ve seen with your eyes, Weevil. Questions,” he pressed again.

               “I-I… n-no a-answers,” the mint haired boy stammered.

               “Then who?”

               “K-Kaiba! H-He k-know… e-every… t-thing.”

               “Kaiba Corp.?” The blond perked up at that, giving them a look that resembled a dog upon hearing a word he recognizes.

               “B-Big b-boss… h-he m-made y-your b-b-b-brain.”

               “Tough man to see, Weevil,” the albino complained, taking a seat on a nearby metal box. “Lots of security.”

               “B-B-B-Bakura… h-he c-c-c-can… y-y-y-ou s-s-s-s-see b-b-b-boss!” The eye designer was clearly turning blue by now.

               The albino replicant looked at him, confused. “And who is this… Bakura?” he asked.

               “R-R-R-R-Ry-Ry-Ryou…”

               “Bakura,” the albino finished. “Now, where do we find this… Ryou Bakura?”

 

 

~TBC~


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

“Voice identification please,” the cheery, female mechanical voice asked.

Atem frowned, he never could understand why people had insisted on using such annoyingly cheery voices for their gizmos, especially when the world was now far from a cheery place. It constantly rained acidic water in Domino, the streets were crowded with the genetic rejects and those who couldn’t pay the exorbitant prices to leave for another colony. In his eyes, it was definitely  _not_  a cheery place.

“Motou,” he said, giving the name his apartment was under.

“Thank you, Mr. Motou.” The elevator door hissed open and he tiredly stepped in, not noticing the figure following him in. “Floor please,” came the voice.

“Ninety seven,” he said, yawning.

“Thank you,” the computer voice said again and the elevator started carrying him up to his floor. A few minutes later, he yawned again and was about to step out when he felt someone in the elevator with him. His eyes narrowed and he whipped out his gun, turning to see…

A boy with light green hair in a dark blue sleeveless trench coat standing calmly in the shadows. It was the replicant he’d tested earlier that day.  _‘What’s it doing here?’_  he asked, annoyed that he now had a runaway replicant in his home.

“I needed to see you,” Noa said, unfazed by the weapon pointed at his face. Sighing, Atem put the gun away and let the boy follow him out into the hall. “So I waited.”

The spiky haired man was clearly unnerved by Noa’s sudden appearance. Never once in all his time as a Blade Runner has a replicant willingly sought him out. He fumbled with his wallet, trying to retrieve his keycard only to drop it.

“Please, let me help,” the boy said, bending down and picking up the keycard.

Atem shakingly took it from him, inwardly gasping at how real the skin of Noa’s hand felt against his. He never bothered with details like that, the less one knew about replicants, the better it was to ‘retire’ them. If he’d come to see them as humans, then he’d have one heck of a time trying to justify ‘retiring’ them.

“What makes you think I’d need help?” he asked gruffly as he pushed the keycard into the slot on his door. There was a short beep and the light indicating the door was locked turned from red to green. He pushed the door open, intending to leave Noa out in the hall.

“I don’t know why my brother told you what he did,” he said, causing the older man to spin around and face him.

“Talk to him,” he replied.

“He wouldn’t see me,” the boy said, genuinely upset. His ‘brother’ had never refused to speak with him before and the man’s sudden aloofness was beginning to grate on his nerves. Noa’s only answer was the door slamming in his face.

A few moments later, the door opened again, revealing a very annoyed and very stern looking Atem. There were no words needed between the two, the look on the man’s face was invitation enough. Noa silently entered as he stepped aside, sighing. The boy said nothing at the perpetual mess that was Atem’s apartment.

“I need a drink,” Atem said, glancing over at the boy now patiently sitting on the couch. Noa said nothing at the unspoken question. Shrugging his shoulders, the Blade Runner went over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of beer from his dilapidated fridge. He popped the cap and began to take a swig of the amber liquid.

“You believe I’m a replicant do you?” Noa said. Atem ignored him, instead choosing to remove his blue jacket and throw it onto a nearby chair. The boy, clearly upset now, reached into his trench coat and pulled out a card shaped necklace. He opened it and held it up to him. “See, it’s me with my mother!”

“Really?” the spiky haired man asked, not believing it one bit as he tidied up a bit. “Remember when you were six,” he began, “you and your brotherMolkuba snuck into the basement of an empty building.  Noa’s eyes widened.  _‘How does he know about that?!’_  he wondered worriedly. “You were going to play doctor. He showed you his, then you chickened and ran out. Remember that? Did you ever tell anyone? Your mother, Kaiba, anyone?” Whether Noa was affected by this or not, he didn’t show it, trying his best to keep his cool.

Atem sat down on the chair, moving his jacket aside. He then took another swig of beer before going on. “Remember the bush outside your window with the spider in it? The one with a green body and orange legs? You watched it build a web all summer…” Noa got up and came over to him, intending to demand how he’d gotten that information. “One day there was a big egg in the web. It hatched…”

“It hatched and hundreds of baby spiders came out,” he said, his voice weak and trembling.

“And?”

“And ate her,” he whispered.

“Still don’t get it do you? They’re implants. They’re not your memories, they’re Mokuba Kaiba’s.” The boy said nothing, tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. He bit his lip, refusing to let himself cry in front of the man.

“Look,” Atem said apologetically, “It was a bad joke. I was only messing with you. You’re  ** _not_**  a replicant, go on home.” He sighed rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. He looked up at the stifled sob and saw tears running down his cheeks. “I’m really sorry, kid,” he said placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was a stupid thing for me to do. Go home.”

Noa wouldn’t budge, he just stood there, crying silently.  _‘Great,_ ’ the man grumbled,  _‘Some guy I am, making little kids cry.’_  “How about a drink?” he asked in attempt to smooth things over and get rid of the guilt. “I’ll get you a drink.” He then went back to his kitchen and retrieved another beer. He knew he shouldn’t be giving a minor alcohol, but that was  ** _all_** he had in there, no food. Just beer and leftovers that were beyond identification. He winced as he heard Noa’s quiet sobs, it really tore at his heart.  _‘If I didn’t know any better, I could swear he’s a regular human.’_  Wait a minute! When did he start calling the replicant ‘he’?  _‘Don’t start thinking like that now Motou,_ ’ he scolded,  _‘That’d be a great way to lose your job or worse, end up dead.’_

He searched for a glass and found none. Frowning at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, he picked up a small juice glass that looked relatively clean and began rinsing it out. However, before he could hand it to the boy, Noa looked at him for a few seconds then hurriedly dashed out of the apartment, slamming the door.

He stood there, glass and bottle in hand just staring and feeling extremely guilty for being so cruel. He hadn’t intended to upset the boy so, but he never did get used to being around replicants since he usually ‘retired’ them instead of making ‘small talk.’ Sighing he placed the beer and glass down on and end table. Noticing something on the floor, he went over and picked it up. It was the card shaped necklace that Noa had tried to show him. Upon opening it, he saw a little boy about six or seven with light green hair standing and smiling in front of a woman with long black hair and laughing grey blue eyes. He knew that to be a fake for before leaving the Kaiba Corp. tower, Kaiba had proudly shown him pictures of his little brother, Mokuba, who was now in a university on one of the colonies. The face and hair of the boy in the picture may have been Noa’s, but any expert could tell that the body was not. Noa’s face had been cleverly superimposed on Mokuba’s body in order to make sure the replicant believed whatever lies the scientist had implanted into his brain.

He was about to close it and put it down, when a piece of paper fell out. Picking it up, he saw that a phone number had been scribbled on it. Pocketing the paper, he closed the locket and decided to get ready for bed.

 

* * *

 

  __

 

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Domino, a boy with spiky blond, black, and red hair walked aimlessly along the abandoned streets of the slums. He shivered slightly at the cold night air for his clothes weren’t exactly practical for a rainy night like this. He wore only a skin tight black mesh shirt, even tighter black leather pants, short combat boots, cut off black elbow length gloves, a spiked dog collar around his slender neck, and a blood red linen jacket that hung down to the backs of his knees.

The boy continued walking a few more minutes then stopped at an abandoned apartment building. He sighed then sat amongst the papers and old boxes littering the sidewalk. Upon finding a place to spend the night, he decided to make himself comfortable and began piling the papers over him to keep off the chill and to make sure he was well hidden.

It wasn’t long before a beat up SUV like vehicle puttered to a stop in front of the building. A young man with long white hair and chocolate colored doe eyes hurriedly ran out, desperately trying to get out of the rain. He began fishing around in the pockets of his jacket and started to pull out a set of keys.

The sound of the metal startled the boy hidden nearby and he let out a gasp. The two stared at each other for a few seconds then, the boy shot up fast as a snake and started running, knocking the other down.

The white haired man got up and called out to the boy. “Wait!” The spiky haired boy paused, eyeing the man suspiciously. “You forgot your bag,” he said, holding up a rather old and beat up backpack. The boy hesitated for a moment then rushed over and snatched it from him.

The taller man smiled gently. He felt pity for the boy. He didn’t know why he was huddled in the garbage out in the rain, but he didn’t really care. It was someone to talk to, if even for only a few seconds. You see, he lived all by himself and his work gave him hardly any time for socializing, that and ‘the other thing.’

“I-I’m lost,” the boy said, timidly.

“It’s alright,” he said, putting on his friendliest smile, “I’m not going to hurt you.” There was more awkward silence for a minute or so. “So um… what’s your name?” he asked shyly, taking in the boy’s appearance.

“Yugi,” the boy said, still wary of this man. His resemblance to his lover unnerving him.

“I’m Ryou,” he replied, still smiling, “Ryou Bakura.”

Yugi’s eyes widened briefly.  _‘His last name’s the same as_ **his** _first name,’_  he mused as he thought of his lover. “H-Hi,” he said, giving a shy smile. Ryou continued to smile, relieved he was able to get the poor kid to smile.

“Oh my!” the man exclaimed after yet another awkward silence, “Where were you running off to? Maybe I can help. Give you a lift home?”

“I don’t have one,” Yugi said sadly.

“Oh dear,” he said pityingly.

“We scared each other good didn’t we?” Yugi asked, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Yep. We sure did.”

The spiky haired boy shyly giggled and laughed, making the white haired man’s heart skip a beat at the musical quality.

“I’m starving, Ryou-kun,” Yugi said, using every one of his tricks to make himself look enticing. He needed a place to stay and if he played his cards right, he’d get one  **out**  of the rain, and perhaps some food as well – he really was hungry after all.

“I-I’ve got food inside,” Ryou said, blushing slightly at the suddenly flirtatious boy. “Why don’t you come in for a bit?”

“I’d love that Ryou-kun!” beamed Yugi.

Ryou blushed even more at that sparkling smile. He then hurriedly unlocked the mesh and glass doors, holding one open for his guest. Yugi gave him a teasing peck on the cheek as he entered, grateful to get out of the cold and rain. Ryou’s face was bright red now, he’d only been kissed by his mother and sister and they were now dead, due to prolonged exposure to the fallout from World War Terminus. He frowned in shame at the dingy, dusty refuse littered lobby. He never bothered to clean up the place since he  ** _never_**  had any guests. There were no other tenants to complain about it so he just kept procrastinating. He muttered to himself about the equal mess of his apartment.  _‘Can’t be helped now,’_ he grumbled,  _‘I just hope he doesn’t mind it too much.’_

He led them to the elevator and slid the gate open. He gave the huge skylight in the lobby and shivered, grateful it was relatively dark out. He hated that window; it was what kept him from leaving the building during the day.

“So…” Yugi began as they rode the lift up, “You here all by yourself?”

“Yes, pretty much,” he replied ruefully. “One good thing about this place, plenty of vacancies.” Yugi giggled. “Oh! Watch out for the water,” he said as they came to a stop and exited the elevator.

Yugi looked down and saw a huge puddle in the middle of the hall. He glanced up and saw that one of the windows was completely empty of glass and the acid rain was now pouring in. Ryou gave him an apologetic smile as they made their way to his apartment.

“You must be pretty lonely here, Ryou-kun,” the boy said, feeling a tiny bit of pity for the human.

               “Not really,” the white haired man said, fishing out his keys again. “I make friends you see.” Yugi looked at him quizzically. “Toys I mean. My friends are toys, it’s just a hobby really,” he said with a hint of pride. “I’m actually a genetic designer. Do you know what that is?”

“No,” Yugi said, his usually innocent looking amethyst eyes darkening. Oh he knew alright. He’d learned lots of stuff from his lover over these past few months.

“Well here we are,” Ryou said, unlocking the door with his keycard and holding it open for his new guest. “Hello!” he called, “Tadaima!”

Yugi started at the sound of footsteps and jumped as two tiny figures entered the foyer. His eyes widened in awe at the strange half angel, half demon figure and blue skinned, bald headed woman that came up to his thighs. “Okaeri, Ryou-san,” they said in unison.

“Hello there!” he said patting both on the head before going to lock the door. It may not have been necessary, but he had gotten so used to doing it when his father was still around that it was just pretty much automatic. The dolls then whirled around and began returning to where they came from

Yugi smiled and chuckled as he watched the half demon half angel doll bump into the frame of a doorway and continue to walk in place a few moments before turning slightly and walk after its companion.

“Those are the friends I told you about,” Ryou said proudly, “I made them. So where are your folks?” he asked.

“Don’t have any,” he said continuing to look around, “I guess you can say I’m an orphan.”

“Oh. Um… what about friends, you got any?” he wondered as he took the boy’s jacket and hung it on a hook to dry.

"A few. We sort of got separated. I’ll let them know where I am tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay. Um…” Ryou looked away blushing, now that he got a good look at the boy. “I guess I’ll um… sleep on the couch then. Bedroom’s over there,” he said, pointing to the only neat room in the apartment.

 “Oh, I couldn’t do that to you Ryou-kun,” the boy protested. “I’ll take the couch, I don’t mind.”

“No!” the man said adamantly, “I will not having my guest sleeping on that old lumpy couch. You go ahead and take the bed, I insist.”

“Well, if you insist,” Yugi said, smiling, “thanks Ryou-kun.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, blushing profusely again.

 

* * *

 

 

Atem sat at the upright piano his ex-wife had left behind, his hand lazily playing with the keys as he tried to will himself back to bed. Ever since Noa’s hasty departure, he hadn’t been able to get any sleep. His crimson eyes began to slowly droop and he leant his head against the music shelf.

 

**_He was running through the forest, the wind blowing his silvery white mane and tail so that they fanned out in strange floating white clouds. The sound of his hoofs as they touched the ground pounding in his delicate ears, matching his heartbeat. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting eerie green beams of light and reflecting off the shining horn upon his majestic and slender head._ **

**_He gave out a joyous whinny, exulting in just being able to run freely as he liked and shook his head in merriment._ **

****

Atem jerked awake and shook his head.  _‘What the hell?!’_  he thought as the weird dream slowly began to fade.  _‘I’ve really got to lay off the cheap beer.’_

Glancing back at the piano, he picked up the small stack of photos he’d gotten from the blond replicant’s hotel room. He went through them, glancing at them more closely then stopped when he noticed one of them had an odd reflection in the room’s mirror.

Grabbing the beer bottle nearby, he leapt from the bench and carefully made his way to the photo analyzer. He shoved the dirty laundry off the chair and sat down, turning it on then inserting the picture.

There was a series of blips and beeps as it warmed up and a grid like screen appeared. He took a drink from the bottle, patiently waiting for the photo to be digitized. A series of hums and beeps later, the photo appeared on the screen underneath the grid.

“Enhance thirty four to thirty six,” he commanded after spending several moments zooming in and moving around the picture. The machine beeped then zeroed in on the area around the mirror. “Pan right and pull back,” The machine was only too happy to oblige. “Stop.” The analyzer obeyed, the mirror in clear view now. “Enhance thirty four to thirty six,” he ordered again. The machine this time zeroing on a tiny section of the mirror’s refection. Odd oblong like shapes appeared in what seemed to be the form of a person. “Pull back, wait, go right. Stop. Enhance fifty seven ninet een.” The machine beeped and clicked as it went about its business.

The spiky haired Blade Runner fiddled with the photo a bit more before saying, “Stop. Give me a hard copy right there.” The machine hummed this time and started printing out theh current screen. A bronze skinned, blond boy was longing on what appeared to be a couch. It was blurry, but it appeared that he had a tattoo of a cobra on one cheek.

Reaching into his wallet, Atem pulled out the small evidence bag and stared at the scale like thing inside, puzzling over it.  _‘I wonder,’_  he mused.

Giving an enormous yawn, he placed the scale on top of the print out and stood up, finally ready to get back to sleep.  _‘I look into it tomorrow,’_  he said, yawning again.

 

~TBC~

 


	5. Chapter 4

The spiky haired Blade Runner spent the next day trying to figure out what the scale he'd gotten from his target's hotel room was from. It wasn't until he had stopped at the White Dragon noodle bar for his usual dinner of cheep, lousy ramen that it hit him. Noticing that the customer beside him had ordered fish heads with his meal, he couldn't help but think that the scales on the rather unappetizing meal were quite similar.

He then promptly paid for his half finished bowl and left for a local aquarium he had frequented a few times in the hopes of finding an affordable pet, which he never did of course. Ersatz animals were just as expense as the remaining few genuine ones. "Is this fish?" he asked the plump woman minding the counter, holding up the evidence bag containing the scale.

"Hmm… let me see," she said merrily as she carefully took out the scale and placed it in the electronic microscope sitting nearby. "Oh my!" she cried, her eyes glinting in surprise beneath her glasses. "This is superior workmanship. The best I've seen." She fiddled with the microscope a bit more until she found what she was looking for. "Aha! There's the serial number… 9909647XB71. Why this isn't fish at all, it's a snake scale!"

"Snake?!" Atem parroted, nonplussed.

"If I were you, I'd try that Raptor boy's place. This is most definitely his mark," the woman said.

"Thanks for your help, Miss Dorothy," he said taking back the scale.

"Oh it's no trouble," Dorothy replied, blushing slightly. "Anything for a fine handsome young boy like yourself." Atem nodded in thanks again and left, but not without giving a few of the fish a longing glance.  _'Maybe after this case I could get a nice guppy,_ ' he thought, dreaming of the nice big, fat bounty he'd get from 'retiring' so many replicants.

 

* * *

 

 

About half an hour later, he was able to locate the shop of one Rex Raptor, a rather disagreeable man who specialized in manufacturing all sorts of reptiles. Glancing about the Blade Runner's crimson eyes widened at the sight of an enormous Komodo dragon lounging in an air conditioned glass cage. He had to admit, this man had to have been good if he could come up with something as rare as that.

"Yeah, whadda ya want?" a two toned brunet man asked, annoyed at having his work interrupted.

"You Rex Raptor?" the spiky haired man queried.

"Who wants to know?" the shop owner shot back, eyeing the man suspiciously.

Atem pulled out his Domino City Blade Runner license and flashed it at the brunet. Rex scowled, but said nothing "How's your license, it up to date?" he asked, enjoying himself as the man squirmed slightly.

"Of course it is!" Rex spat hurriedly.

"Good, now I've got some questions for you, Rex." He then handed him the snake scale. "That your work?" The two toned brunet snatched the scale and quickly shoved it under his microscope.

"Yeah so what?" he shot.

"Who'd you sell it to?" the Blade Runner asked.

"My stuff's pretty expensive ya know," Rex skirted, "Aren't that many who've got the dough who can afford these beauties."

"How many?" Atem pressed.

"Very few," Rex replied, obviously not in the mood to give up the info.

The Blade Runner's eyes darkened to a deep blood red as he narrowed them. "I think I'd better see that license of yours," he demanded icily.

Rex went pale, he knew once this man had seen that there was no license, he'd be out of a livelihood and rotting in a jail cell. "H-Hey, take it easy man. It's cool," he pleaded, "Ya like snakes? I've got a nice Burmese python, just made 'er two days ago. How'd ya like to have 'er, free of charge?" Had he been any other person, the spiky haired man would have snapped up the offer, but he did have some honor.

"Who bought it?" he growled, grabbing hold of the brunet's beat up jacket.

"B-Big guy," Rex stammered, "Wears a bandanna and sunglasses."

Atem let go of him and immediately left the place. "Should have known," he muttered to himself as he headed for the sleaziest club in Domino.

 

 

* * *

 

 

'Bandit' Keith's club was jumping as it always was. Where else would the dregs of society have to go to get their booze and sick kicks? Sighing the Blade Runner sat down at the bar, waiting for the blond proprietor to notice him. How he hated dealing with the sleazy bastard, Keith was always trying to get him hooked up with one of his 'girls'.

Glancing toward the stage, he grimaced as the men sent hoots and cat calls at the girl performing. To him it was more gyrating then an actual performance.

"See something you like?" Keith said, coming over to the man's seat.

"Not what I'm here for, Keith," Atem spat back. "You get your snakes from Raptor don't you?" he asked, indicating the python slithering in the wall sized tank off to the other side of the club.

"Yeah, so? You looking ta buy, I can smooth over a deal for ya."

The shorter man glared as he pulled out a photo and shoved it in the blond's face. "Have you seen this guy lately?" Keith's eyes widened, but he quickly turned his head away and began to busy himself with wiping the bar off.

"Never seen 'im before."

"I can't remember," Atem said, leaning closer to the taller blond, "Maybe you can refresh my memory. You're up to date on your liquor license aren't you?" Keith almost dropped the glass he'd been wiping.

"How about a drink, Atem old pal, on me of course," he said quickly grabbing a nearby beer bottle and glass, setting them down before the spiky haired man. Atem nodded in thanks, though he was still annoyed that he was getting nowhere. Then again, he really hadn't expecting Keith to outright spill his guts. All he'd been able to gather was that the blond had lied about not seeing the blond before.

He sighed and took a gulp straight from the bottle, not bothering to pour the beer this time. He pulled out the mysterious boy's photo again only to realize that he'd pulled out Noa's picture of him and his mother along with it. He stared at it for a moment then turned it over, glancing at the scribbled phone number.

He didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he got up and ran to the nearest available vidphone booth. Maybe it was that he had nothing better to do for now; or maybe it was he'd decided to take the boy up on his offer of help. Whatever it was, Atem decided to just get this over with and began dialing.

"Hello?" said the mint haired boy a few moments later, his face filling the tiny view screen.

"I've had plenty of people run out on me before," the spiky haired man joked, trying to hide his uneasiness, "But not when I was being so charming. How about we try again? I'm at the Club Jinzo, I'll buy you a drink."

The boy frowned in distaste. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Mutou," he replied, "That place is not to my tastes."

"We can go somewhere else then."

However, it seemed that the boy wasn't at all interested or in the mood for company. Instead of giving him an answer, Noa abruptly hung up, leaving a rather surprised Atem on the other end. Sighing, the Blade Runner inserted his bank card and paid the buck twenty-five for the call.

A minute later, he was back at the bar, his beer still lay on the counter. As he took another swig from the bottle, the MC on the stage began announcing the next act. He wasn't really that interested but, turned to watch upon hearing the word snake. Within moments an almost naked figure appeared, holding an albino python that was draped around its bronze neck and arms. The halter top the performer wore hid the chest, but to Atem's trained eyes, the figure was clearly male.

He watched intently as the man began to lead the snake in a most sensuous dance, which promptly earned the usual cat calls and wolf whistles from the observing drunks and a few of the waitresses as well.

It wasn't that he was attracted to the platinum blond on the stage, true the snake dancer was practically having sex with the serpent, but that wasn't why he was so drawn to the man. He'd recognized the tattoo of a cobra on the left side of his face; it was one of the replicants he'd been hired to 'retire'!

Now that he'd spotted his target, Atem rose from his stool and weaved his way through the crowded club to the backstage area. Flashing his police issued id, the guard posted by the rusty metal door grunted and reluctantly allowed him through.

Snatching up a newspaper that had been abandoned from the floor, the spiky haired man leaned against the wall and began to wait for the blond to finish his act. He paid no attention to the scantily clad men and women hustling and bustling throughout the club's backstage.

He didn't have long to wait. About five minutes later the bronze skinned man came from the stage, the python once again resting comfortably around his neck and arms. Seeing this may be his only chance, the Blade Runner sidled up to him, his best sleazy and charming smile on his face.

"Pardon me, sir," the spiky haired man said, blocking the blond's only route of escape. The exotic dancer glared at him, but waited to see what the fool wanted before doing anything. Besides, there were too many witnesses mulling around at the moment.

"I'm with the Federation of Variety Artists," Atem went on to explain, deciding to use a fake nasal voice. "I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"You don't say," the blond said not buying the man's act, but humoring him anyway and flashing him a flirting smile.

"I'm not going to ask you to join, nor sir," the spiky haired man replied and following him into a dressing room, "That's not my job. I'm actually from the Committee of Moral Abuses."

"Committee of Moral Abuses?"

"Yes sir. It's been brought to our attention that the management of this… establishment has been reported to um… take liberties with some of the… ah… artists employed here."

"Well that's news to me," the blond replied, removing the serpent and draping it onto a coat rack as like one would with a favorite scarf.

"Yes, well have you ever felt exploited in any way?"

"What do you mean?" He was getting nervous now, not because the blond had been taken advantage of by a certain sleazy blond owner, but because it was pretty obvious this man was lying through his teeth. However, he was not one to reveal his emotions to anyone, having been 'trained' to do. He continued to eye the man suspiciously – this spiky haired stranger was equally guarded – and waited for his chance.

"Well," Atem continued, "Like how'd you get this job for instance, were you made to do anything that was lewd or unsavory or otherwise repulsive to you?"

The blond glanced over at him from the closet after having put away a stray coat or two. "You've got to be kidding me," he said, giving a barking laugh.

"Oh definitely not," the Blade Runner replied still putting on his cheesy inspector act, "I'd like to look around your dressing room if I may."

"Oh yeah? What for?" he asked, stripping his barely there outfit and stepping into the shower and turning it on.

"Why holes of course."

"Holes?!"

"Well, you don't know what some people would do to get a look at a beautiful body," the shorter male answered, quickly adverting his eyes from the now naked performer. "They sometimes drill little holes in the walls so they can watch people undress." Atem moved through the cluttered dressing room, pretending to look for said holes as he waited for the right moment to strike. Two minutes later, the blond returned from the shower, his hair now dry thanks to the industrial strength beauty salon style hair dryer that was tucked into a corner.

"So um… is that a real snake?" Atem asked as the blonde began to dress.

"What do you think?!" he snapped, pulling on a stiletto healed boot that only reached to the middle of his calf, having already slipped on a pair of skin tight black leather pants that looked more like black paint then clothing. "You think I'd be working in a place like this if I could afford a  **real**  snake?!"

Said snake hissed at him as the shorter man made to stroke it. Atem pulled back suddenly upon receiving a slight electric shock. He didn't need the shock to prove that it was fake; he'd already known that. It was just that he'd never really seen a live snake before and he was curious as to how it felt to touch one.

"So what do I do if they try to exploit me? Who do I go to?" the topless blond asked sidling over to him.

"Why me of course," the spiky haired Blade Runner replied, pouring on the charm.

"How dedicated of you, here make yourself useful," the blond quipped, shoving the towel head been carrying at him. Atem stared at the piece of cloth for a few seconds, then began to nervously run it along the blond's damp exposed back. The Blade Runner's eyes examined the intricate tattoo covering the entire plane of bronze skin curiously.

The blonde exotic dancer bent a bit to pick up a small light purple hoodie top. That was when he chose to strike. Quick as the cobra tattooed onto his face, he elbowed the shorter man in the gut, causing him to fly back several feet and onto a clothing covered chaise. The blond replicant then yanked the hoodie over his head and shoved his arms through side holes as his hunter lay panting heavily.

He then menacingly strode over to him and yanked at the spiky haired man's tie, grinning as he proceeded to strangle him with it. Mere seconds later, the sounds of someone entering the dressing room caused the blond to panic and drop the tie. He dashed for the door and brutally shoved the poor girl aside as she was about to enter.

The replicant raced through the maze of hallways and dashed out one of the rear staff entrances. Moments later, a still panting Atem burst from the Club Jinzo hot on his target's trail. He pushed aside the many pedestrians and street vendors as he desperately chased after the blond.

He frowned upon seeing that he'd lost the target within the crowd. His crimson eyes began to dart back and forth, desperately seeking a bronze skinned, blond man. He wove through the labyrinth of hummer like taxis and pedestrians, pushing aside a bunch of Hare Krishnas that had decided to get in his way at that moment.

Finally spotting a flash of lavender and platinum on the other side of the street, Atem pushed his way after the still fleeing replicant. The Blade Runner forced his way onto a passing tram car, brandishing his gun. The blond had seen him and started to race off into the crowd once again, desperate to escape.

Swearing under his breath at his ill luck, Atem leapt off the tram and once again made his way into the throng of people. He spotted the blond crouching on the subway stairs and made to shoot him again. But as Fate would have it, the replicant quickly shot up and ran off again, leaping over a car stopped at a red light.

"Move it! Get out of the way!" Atem screamed at the pedestrians when he saw he finally had a clear shot. But they just ignored him, either not having heard him over the din of the multitude of blaring ads and talking traffic signals or just not giving a damn. He fired several shots only to miss each time and frighten some of the people.

The blond dashed through a fashion store's window display, shattering the glass and sending it flying in all directions. Having finally broken free of the sea of people, the Blade Runner fired one last shot at the fleeing replicant. He finally hit his target, the bullet going through the center of the tattoo on the blond's back and bursting from his chest.

The blond ran for a few more feet then stumbled, rolling onto his back as he fell onto the store's floor. He staggered, managing to get up again and made to run; he  **had**  to get away! His spiky haired assassin fired another shot, hitting him in the heart. The poor replicant let out a soundless gasp and crashed through the store's rear display window, landing on the sidewalk, dead and red fluid seeping onto the hoodie and sidewalk.

Atem stared numbly as policemen came rushing over to the corpse and began examining it. One of them eyed him suspiciously and the Blade Runner promptly pulled out his license. "Mutou," he said breathlessly from having spent most of his energy chasing the replicant. "B263234." The cop took the license and ran his identification number through the portable database strapped to his wrist. Once he had been recognized as an officially licensed Blade Runner, the policeman gave back the shorter man's license and went on with disposing of the blond's body.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a tall blond was glaring dangerously at the spiky haired man from across the street, his honey eyes glowing with righteous fury. That bastard had killed his best friend! It was only when poor Malik's corpse had been carted away like a sack of potatoes did Jounouchi walk away from the now dispersing crowd of onlookers. ' _I'm gonna make 'em suffer!'_  he vowed as he went in search of the others.

 

* * *

 

 

In desperate need of a drink, Atem made his way to a liquor stand he frequented. "The usual?" the girl on duty tonight asked, batting her eyes at him.

He shook his head, "Make it vodka this time," he replied.

"Sure thing hot stuff," she said winking at him. As she went to fetch a bottle of the clear liquor, he felt someone tap his shoulder rather aggressively. Scowling, the spiky haired man grabbed the offending hand and spun around only to wind up face to face with a raven haired man dressed in red and black. It was that annoying toady of Marik's.

"Ishtar wants to see you," he said, smirking at the irate Blade Runner.

Atem nodded then paid for the vodka. Grabbing the now paper bagged bottle; he followed his less than agreeable colleague to his squad hover car. The car's passenger door slid up and a tall blond with bronze skin gracefully exited the vehicle. "You look as bad as that skin job you left lying back there," he quipped as he greeted the shorter man.

"Look, Marik, I'm tired," Atem spat, just about had it for today, "I'm going home."

"You should start learning from this guy, Otogi," Marik said to the tall brunet, "He's a one man slaughterhouse. You've still got four left," he added to the shorter Blade Runner.

The spiky haired man stared incredulously at his superior a few moments then spoke up, "You're wrong Marik, I've got three."

"Four," emphasized the blond, "Remember that skin job you VK'd at Kaiba's? Well, the big guy himself phoned, said that it vanished, ran off. He said it didn't even know it was a replicant, something to do with brain implants. Let's go Otogi," he said getting back into the hover car. "Oh yeah, why don't ya have one for me?" he sniped, noticing the bottle his colleague had been carrying.

Otogi nodded curtly to Atem then proceeded to round the vehicle and get into the driver's seat. The Blade Runner watched tiredly as the police car rose up into the air and sped off into the rainy night sky.

TBC


	6. Chapter 5

Atem started to make his way back to his apartment when a flash of white mint green caught his eye. He turned to see Noa standing on the other side of the street, his blue eyes watching him intently. The Blade Runner began to push his way across the busy street only to find that the replicant had vanished. He looked around frantically, failing to notice the tall blond come over to him, hate and anger blazing in his honey colored eyes.

The shorter man jerked when he felt someone tap his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with one of the replicants he was supposed to be hunting. “Jounouchi,” he said, surprised that one of his targets had willingly approached him.

The blond glared at his friend’s murderer a few moments before speaking, “How’d ya find Malik so quick?” he demanded.

Atem couldn’t help smirking. It was a stupid and dangerous thing to do when facing an irate and murderous being that could crush you with its bare hands, but the spiky haired man just couldn’t help feeling superior to the not so bright replicant. “I had pictures,” he replied. “I asked around someone recognized him.”

The blond let out an angry growl before asking his next question. “That so? How old am I?”

Atem seeing that he wasn’t going to get away so easily, he did the first thing that came to mind. He punched the blond. Jounouchi’s head went back with the force of the blow, but he showed not a single bit of pain, in fact there wasn’t even a single blemish on his rather handsome face. “I don’t know,” the Blade Runner said, after shaking his throbbing hand.

Jounouchi’s  eyes hardened into pieces of dark amber. He then promptly grabbed Atem’s jacket with both hands and forcefully slammed him into the side of a parked garbage truck. “My birthday’s January 25, 2017,” the blond spat, “How long have I got?”

“F-Four years,” the Blade Runner replied, gasping from having the wind knocked out of him.

The taller replicant’s grip tightened further and he proceeded to spin the shorter man around a few times, slamming him against the several trucks nearby each time. By that time, Atem had managed to pull out his gun, only to have it knocked out of his hand by the blond. “That’s more than what ya’ve got!” Jounouchi shouted, raising a fist. The clenched hand flew through the air and punched a hole through a tanker truck as if it were made of cheap recycled paper. The Blade Runner had ducked just in time before his head had been turned into a huge pile of Jell-o.

“Hurts ta live in fear don’t it?” the bond spat, grabbing onto the spiky haired man once again, a murderous smirk on his face. He threw the Blade Runner clear across the street and he landed onto the hood of a parked car, shattering the windshield with his fall. Jounouchi leapt to the other side where Atem lay gasping and groaning. “Ya know, there’s nothing worse than havin’ an itch ya can’t eva scratch,” he said, grinning like a madman.

“I-I agree,” Atem gasped out.

Jounouchi grabbed him by the throat and hefted him up, making him dangle several feet off the ground. The replicant then proceeded to backhand the Blade Runner’s face several times. “Wake up,” he called in a singsong voice, “Time ta die!” He raised two fingers, aiming them at the shorter man’s eyes. Atem flinched, waiting for the replicant’s deathblow.

However, it never came. Looking up in utter shock, there was an enormous crater on the blond’s forehead, artificial blood oozing out from the wound. Atem let out a choked gasp and suddenly found himself crashing to the ground, the blond falling with him to land on top of him. Jounouchi was dead.

Standing several feet away with the Blade Runner’s gun in his hand was the last person he’d expected to come to his rescue, Noa. The smaller replicant stood there shaking terribly, a look of utter shock and horror on his otherwise stoic face.

 

**************************************************************************

 

The spiky haired man sighed before taking a swig from his glass. He didn’t remember making it to his apartment let alone buying another bottle of vodka after the first one broke during his fight with the blond replicant. Everything had happened so fast that all he had done blurred together. Now here he was back in his home with a runaway replicant, and a rather cute one at that.

“Got the shakes?” he asked sympathetically, noticing the still horrified Noa rubbing his arms. “Me too,” he said after receiving an almost imperceptible nod from the boy. He looked at Noa in sympathy. He may have been a hardened killer by now, but there were still the rare occasions where a replicant or two had almost ‘retired’  **him** , like Jounouchi had that night. Noa looked at him, not knowing what to make of the man at the moment. “I still get them, bad. It’s part of the business.” He poured another shot of vodka and took a swig.

“I am the business,” Noa said bitterly, refusing to come out of the shadows of Atem’s apartment. The Blade Runner stared back at him, not knowing what to say for once. “I’m the damned business!” the boy shouted again before breaking down into sobs.

Not knowing how to handle a sobbing replicant, Atem put down his drink and went to the bathroom. Removing his jacket and shirt, he proceeded to take care of the teeth that Jounouchi had so graciously knocked from their homes.

“What if I go north?” the boy asked a few minutes later, coming into the bathroom and causing the Blade Runner to look up. “Disappear. Would you come after me? Kill me?”

“No,” Atem replied, genuinely sympathetic to the replicant’s plight. It wasn’t everyday you wake up to find out you’re actually an artificial human with fake memories after all. “I wouldn’t,” he said, drying his face and hair. “I owe you one.”

He walked past him, stopping to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But someone else would,” he said, heading to his bedroom. Noa stood there, his mind going over everything that’s happened to him since he’d met this man.

“Motou?” Noa called from somewhere else as the spiky haired man went about searching for a set of cleaner clothes. “About those files on me, my incept date, the longevity, did you see them?”

“They’re classified,” he said putting on his robe.

“You work for the police,” Noa protested, standing at the doorway. “You could have…”

“I didn’t see them,” came the man’s curt reply.

“That Voight-Kampff test of yours, did you ever take it yourself?” After several moments passed without a reply, the replicant decided to be bold and entered the bedroom. “Motou?” he called softly. Again no answer, upon further inspection, he saw that the spiky haired man was lying flat on his back on the bed, his drink in his hands and resting on his exposed chest. His crimson eyes were closed and it appeared that he had fallen asleep. Not one to disturb a sleeping person, Noa silently left the bedroom and decided to do a bit of exploring.

Coming upon the piano, he paused and looked at the various photos lined neatly on top of it. Seeing that some sheet music rested on the piano’s music stand, he removed his suit jacket and sat down on the bench. Thinking that he’d nothing better to do, Noa began to play the tune. It was a soft, gentle piece almost like a lullaby and his small hands danced upon the imitation ivory keys with the touch and precision of the finest virtuoso.

Atem awoke at the barely stifled sob, unintentionally spilling his drink. Noa’s ears picked up the sound of movement and splashing liquid and quickly rubbed his eyes, hurriedly blinking away the tears he’d been shedding. The slightly taller man groggily approached the piano and sat next to the boy. He glanced up at the sheet music.

“I dreamt music,” he spoke, trying to ease the awkward tension that had been building between the two.

“I didn’t know if I could play,” the mint green haired replicant said ruefully, resuming his impromptu performance. “I remember having lessons, I don’t know if it’s really me or Kaiba’s brother.”

“You’re wonderful,” the Blade Runner said, causing Noa to blush slightly.

There was another awkward silence that seemed to last for eternity. Noa continued to play as Atem sat and watched. Eventually, the Blade Runner lost the battle raging inside him and shyly leant closer to the boy and placed a hesitant kiss on his baby soft cheek. Noa froze, uncertain as to what to do. In his hormone induced daze, Atem made no move to break away and began kissing the replicant along the jaw line. Noa suddenly realized what was happening and shifted away slightly. The spiky haired man moved to kiss the boy on the lips when it suddenly hit him what he was about to do. He stared at the silent boy bewilderedly.

The mint haired boy was at war with himself, unable to determine what it was he should do. A few moments later, Noa shoved Atem back and bolted straight up. Grabbing his jacket and overcoat, he ran for apartment door. He fumbled with the knob and attempted to open it only to have it slammed shut again by the Blade Runner’s fist. The boy stared at him, his blue eyes wide in apprehension. In a bout of frustration, Atem forcibly pushed the boy against his nearby desk, knocking several glasses, bottles and papers to the floor.

Noa started to tremble again and the older man held up a hand in apology before carefully approaching him. “Will you kiss me?” he asks.

“I-I can’t…” Noa stumbled.

“Say ‘Kiss me,’” the taller one commanded.

“K-Kiss me,” Noa stammered demurely, still unsure of what to do.

Atem did just that, causing the replicant to let out a tiny moan. The kiss lasted for another minute before either broke away for air. “I want you,” the Blade Runner prodded again.

“I-I want you,” Noa parroted.

“Again,” came the demand.

“I want you,” the boy said, slightly breathless and a bit more confident this time. “Touch me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. The spiky haired Blade Runner wrapped an arm around Noa’s trim waist and yanked him forward until he was flush against the man’s chest. He smashed his lips against the boy’s, grabbing a fistful of mint colored silk.

 

**************************************************************

 

Elsewhere in Domino…

Yugi had woken up early and seeing that his host hadn’t risen yet, he went about exploring the rather large apartment. After wandering through the dimly lit dwelling, he came upon a strange room littered with various types of machinery. Being the curious replicant that he was, the spiky haired boy crept inside silently. He snuck over to a large leather office chair and stifled a chuckle. It appeared that his host had fallen asleep while working on his ‘friends.’ Sitting on the long table before the albino was the little half demon, half angel doll from earlier. He spotted an interesting machine that looked like some kind of microscope or viewer. He leant forward and was about to peek inside when he heard…

“Watcha doing?” Ryou asked sleepily, slightly startling the shorter replicant.

“Oh! Sorry, just being nosy,” Yugi replied sheepishly, blushing slightly. “So, um, how do I look?” he asked. He had taken a shower a while ago and washed his clothes while showering.

“Better,” the albino replied shyly.

“Just better?” the boy pouted.

“P-Perfect,” Ryou stammered, making his guest smile broadly.

“Thanks, Ryou-kun. So um, how old are you?” he asked, trying to make small talk. He was bored and really didn’t know what to do now that he was separated from his friends.

“Twenty-five,” Ryou replied, starting to work on the doll.

Yugi blinked in surprise, his host actually looked much older. “So how come you keep the lights down real low?”

“I have to,” the bio-engineer replied grimly, “I have XP, Xeroderma Pigmentosum.” **(1)**

“What’s that?” Yugi chirped, his amethyst eyes sparkling with child like curiosity.

“It’s a real rare genetic defect. It makes it so your skin burns real easily and real bad too. You can’t go out in daylight. Even some light bulbs can burn you if you have a really bad case like me.”

“So that’s where you’re still here huh?”

“You guessed it,” Ryou said, smiling ruefully. “I failed the physical because of the XP. I couldn’t leave now even if I could afford to. I don’t mind though, it’s not so bad here.” He gave the doll a loving pat on the head. Yugi smiled, remembering the times when his former master would do that before he tossed him out with the garbage.

“Well I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” Yugi said, making Ryou drop his tool and blush. “Hello ‘Kura!”

Ryou jumped out of his seat as he heard footsteps approach them. He eeped when he saw a slightly taller copy of himself standing in the doorway. The taller man smirked, his chocolate eyes gazing at them in amusement, curiosity, and a hint of jealousy.

“Those are some toys you’ve got there,” Bakura said, eyeing the machines with interest and awe. The broken dolls lying about weren’t bad pieces of work either.

“This is one of the friends I told you about,” the spiky haired replicant said going over to the taller albino and placing a peck on his cheek. Bakura smirked and wrapped an arm around Yugi’s waist. “This is my new friend Ryou Bakura,” the shorter replicant said introducing his host.

“I like a guy who knows when to stay put,” the taller replicant said, eyeing Ryou cautiously. “Live here by yourself?”

“Y-Yes,” Ryou stammered, feeling a tiny bit intimidated by the taller man. The taller albino’s smirk grew. He then titled Yugi’s head back, giving the smaller boy a quick kiss on the lips. The bio-engineer went beet red then stood up again.

“W-Would you l-like some breakfast? I’m a good cook,” he said as he made a hasty retreat.

“Well?” Yugi queried in a more mature tone now that they were alone and able to talk in private.

“Jou…” Bakura growled, unable to finish.

“What is it? Bakura what happened to Jou?!” the smaller of the two demanded.

“There’s only two of us now,” Bakura replied, fighting against the anger, hate, and tears fighting to burst out.

“So we’ll die after all, huh?” Yugi said after remaining silent for a few moments. He knew he should be sad, upset or angry even at the loss of his fellow replicants. The two blonds were his best friends. Jounouchi was even like an older brother to him. But he couldn’t feel a thing, all he felt was… numb.

Bakura sighed then put on his best knee weakening smile. “No we won’t,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on the little one’s cheek.

 

******************************************************************

 

After a somewhat strained and restrained breakfast, Yugi took Bakura on a tour of Ryou’s apartment. The smaller replicant would stop occasionally to point out an interesting piece of machinery or his favorite toy.

Tucked amongst the litter was a small gaming table with an obviously in progress game of chess on top. The albino replicant glanced at it, studying the locations of the pieces while running several moves through his electronic brain. Upon deciding a course of action, he moved one of the pieces.

“No,” Ryou corrected, he’d come in to see the man staring at his game. “Knight takes Queen, that won’t do.”

Bakura stared at the other albino, impressed at his intelligence. He stared at the board again after moving the opposite side’s Knight and removing the Queen he moved. “What’s so interesting about us?” he asked while going over more moves.

Ryou blushed at being caught staring at the two replicants for several minutes. “Well, b-because you two are different, p-perfect.”

The two gave each other a clandestine and conspiratorial smirk. “Is that so?” Bakura asked.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Ryou began, “but what generation are you?”

“Nexus 6,” came the taller replicant’s proud reply.

“I knew it!” their host crowed, “I could tell. I do genetic design work for Kaiba. There’s a bit of me in you,” he said beaming at Bakura. “Show me something,” he ordered like a child with a new toy.

“Like what?” asked an amused Bakura.

“Well, um, anything!”

“With computers or physical?” the taller albino asked leering at his smaller original.

Getting into a mischievous mood, Yugi stretched his arms and languidly rose from his seat next to Bakura. “I think, Ryou…” he purred, wrapping an arm around the taller boy’s shoulders and making him blush, “Therefore I am.”

“Well done, Yugi,” praised Bakura, “Care to show him why?” Giggling, the spiky haired replicant released their blushing host and did a backwards flip. He then went over to the eggs that were boiling on a hot plate and yanked one out of the beaker containing them. He let out another mischievous giggle and tossed it at the shorter albino. Ryou gasped and caught it, only to yelp at heat it gave off and drop the egg.

“You know,” Bakura said after snickering at his smaller companion’s antics. “We have a lot in common.”

“Oh what would that be?” Ryou asked, pouring cold water over his hands.

“Bad genetics,” Yugi piped up.

“I’m sorry that I can’t help you, Bakura,” Ryou said sadly, “I really don’t know that much about genetics otherwise, I’d done something about my own condition.”

Chocolate colored orbs narrowed into dark pools of ice. Quick as a viper, Bakura’s hand latched onto Ryou’s pale arm and jerked him forward. The shorter albino let out a mewl of pain at the sudden rough treatment. “If we don’t do something soon,” Bakura hissed so that only the two albinos could hear, “Yugi will die. He hasn’t got much longer to live and I  **won’t**  allow that.” 

Ryou gave a sympathetic nod to show that he understood. “I really can’t help, Bakura, honest,” he whispered back, “I’m so sorry.”

Bakura nodded then released him. Ryou winced at the rapidly forming bruise on his extremely delicate skin. “Is he good?” the taller albino asked.

“P-Pardon?”

“Your opponent,” Bakura replied, indicating the chess game.

“Oh you mean Dr. Kaiba! He’s really good, though I did beat him once. It was just a fluke really. I hadn’t been able to beat him since. I swear the man’s a genius. Then again, he did design you two.”

“Ah, then maybe he can help,” Bakura suggested, inwardly thanking every deity he’d ever heard of.

“Well, maybe I could ask him about it,” Ryou said eagerly, starting to search for his misplaced vidphone.

“No,” the taller replicant said, stopping him, “I think it’d be better if I talk to him, in person.” Ryou started to protest, but the much stronger man maneuvered him to where Yugi was sitting on the littered pool table, eating a bowl of chips.

“I hear he’s a  **very** hard to see man,” Bakura said, smirking as Yugi nonchalantly wrapped his petite legs around the shorter albino.

“Y-Yes very,” Ryou squeaked at the tight hold he now found himself in.

“So will you help us?” Yugi asked sweetly, wrapping his arms around him.

“I-I can’t.”

“Oh pretty please?” the smallest of the three pleaded as cutely as he could, pouring on the charm that had been programmed into him. “We need you, Ry-chan! You’re our bestest and only friend!”

Ryou sighed, unable to resist the little lost puppy act the replicant was putting on. Smirking triumphantly, Bakura reached over to a pile of kipple, a.k.a. junk, and held up an old pair of toy glasses with googly eyes, covering his own. “We’re glad you found us.”

Yugi and Ryou laughed, the previous tension broken finally. “I don’t think there’s any other human out there who’d help us,” Yugi said after catching his breath and placing a kiss on Ryou’s cheek.

Ryou knew when he was beat. He resignedly waited for Bakura to explain what exactly he had in mind.

 

 

~TBC~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) No I didn’t just pull this out of my hat! There really is a disorder called that. It was even mentioned a bit in the movie, The Others.


	7. Chapter 6

Seto Kaiba sat propped up in his beyond king sized bed, his icy blue eyes never leaving the giant wall sized computer screen that hung across from the bed’s foot. “Sell,” he said at the computer AI’s inquiry. The computer then went on to report on the CEO’s current stocks. He was about to tell the computer to trade a stock that was starting to slip when said AI interrupted him.

“You have a visitor Mr. Kaiba,” the monotonous female voice said, “A Mr. Ryou Bakura.”

“At  _this_ time of day?!” the brown haired man asked, simultaneously annoyed and curious. He then hmphed and ordered the AI to connect him to the albino who was currently on his way up. “What is it you want Ryou?” he inquired.

“Queen to Bishop 6, check,” came the slightly younger man’s voice after a few moments of hesitation on Ryou’s end.

“Rubbish,” he grumbled, getting out of bed. “Give me a second,” he added into the intercom. Sighing to himself, Seto stalked over to the game table where his current game with the genetic designer was still being played. “I don’t believe this. Calls me in the middle of the night for nonsense,” he continued to mutter to himself as he studied the board for a few moments then made the indicated move. Sitting down he glanced at the board once more, contemplating his next move as well as to why Ryou had come over instead of just phoning him like he usually had.

“Knight takes Queen,” he spoke into the intercom moving one of his knights. “So what’s really on your mind, Ryou?” he asked, genuinely concerned at his employee and somewhat friend’s sudden visit.

“Bishop to King 7, checkmate,” the taller albino whispered to his human counterpart as they continued to ride the elevator to Kaiba’s top floor office/bedroom. The shorter of the two looked at him nervously and the replicant gave him a reassuring smile.

“Bishop to King 7,” Ryou relayed, “Checkmate I believe.” Ryou missed the eerie glint in the replicant’s eyes as he continued to smirk. This human was so easy to take advantage of. All he had to do was show a bit of sympathy, a touch of neediness and he was eating out of his synthetic palm.

“Had too much milk and cookies?” the CEO joked as he continued to study the game. “Is that why you’re up so late? Alright, you’d better come on up then. I’ll have the system allow you through,” Seto said rising from his seat and walking over to his desk. His fingers danced over the top of the mahogany monstrosity and a holographic screen appeared before him. He then began touching various spots on the screen and a soft almost inaudible chime sounded, letting him know that the security system had been disabled.

About fifteen or so minutes later, the enormous and ridiculously carved door to Kaiba Corp.’s main office opened soundlessly on its well oiled hinges. Ryou cautiously and nervously peeked in before allowing himself to enter. “Mr. Kaiba?” he called. The CEO, had now donned a royal blue silk dressing robe, gave him a small smile. Encouraged by the taller man’s reception, the albino began to enter the cavernous room, his rough worker’s shoes echoing loudly as he stepped on the Italian marble floor. “Um…” he started meekly, “I hope you don’t mind if I brought a friend.” Ryou then stepped aside, allowing the CEO to see the taller figure hovering behind the albino.

Seto’s sapphire eyes rose in surprise upon seeing the taller copy of the albino. “I should have known, you’d come here sooner or later,” he said, addressing the replicant. “Though I thought it’d be sooner.”

Bakura cautiously stalked toward the taller brunet, his synthetic chocolate brown eyes taking in  _every_  detail of the opulently decorated office and silently scrutinizing for any possible threats. “You try meeting your maker,” the replicant quipped, “then see how much guts you have.”

Seto gave a low chuckle. His creation did have a point. “So what can this maker do for you?” he asked.

“Can he repair what he makes?” the albino replicant asked in response.

“Are you asking for a modification?” the brunet asked, trying desperately to stall the inevitable. He knew what the replicant had come for, he was a genius after all; much to his regret what Bakura desired was not in his power to give, no matter how brilliant of a scientist he was.

“Stay put,” the taller albino hissed to Ryou who had started to follow. Ryou stiffened at the slightly harsh tone, but obeyed. “Actually what I had in mind was a bit more radical.”

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem?” Seto asked, still stalling.

 “Death,” came Bakura’s curt reply.

“Ah, that,” the brunet said, steepling his hands as he leaned his elbows on the desk. “Well I’m afraid that’s not in my jurisdiction. But I can…”

“I want more life,” the replicant demanded angrily, chocolate eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light, “ _Father_.”

Seto rose from his enormous plush ersatz leather chair and sighed. “Making an alteration in the evolution of an organic life form is fatal. Once the coding sequence has been established, it’s impossible to revise it. Such are the facts of life.”

“Why?” demanded Bakura.

“Because by the second day of the incubation period, any and all cells that have developed reversion mutations create revertant colonies like rats leaving a sinking ship, then the ship sinks.”

“EMS recombination?”

“Don’t think we haven’t tried,” snapped the brunet, “Ethyl Methane Sulfonate is a highly alkylating agent and a just as potent mutagen. Upon introducing it to the subject, it created a virus so deadly that the subject died almost instantly.”

“What about repressor proteins to block operating cells?” the replicant tried again.

“Replication wouldn’t be obstructed, but it would increase errors in replication,” was the CEO’s stoic answer. “thus the DNA carries a mutation and creates a virus. All this academia aside, we made you as well as we could.”

“Apparently not well enough,” Bakura spat bitterly.

The taller brunet nodded in sympathy. “The candle that burns twice as brightly, burns out the quickest,” he said. “And you, Bakura have burned so very brightly.” Seto couldn’t help feel a bit of parental pride at how this particular model had turned out. He felt a pang of guilt as the replicant heaved a sigh and sat down on the designer couch. He strode over to his ‘son’ and sat next to him, placing a sympathetic arm around the albino’s shoulders. “Just look at you,” he beamed, “You’re the prodigal son and quite a prize.”

“I’ve…” Bakura began, still hanging his head, “questionable things.”

“And extraordinary things, I’m sure. Enjoy what time you have, revel in it.”

“What I’ve done, I don’t think the god of biomechanics would let you in heaven for,” spat the still melancholic replicant.

Seto gave a weak smile. Bakura returned the smile and gingerly placed his hands on both sides of his ‘father’s’ head. The CEO stared at him confusedly as the replicant kissed the man’s forehead. Suddenly, he began to scream as Bakura’s hands began squeezing. Within seconds, synthetic blood oozed from Kaiba’s crushed head.

Ryou stood shaking horribly as he watched the murder. The poor man looked like he was going to be violently sick there and then. “I’m sorry… Ryou,” Bakura said, feeling guilty fro letting his ‘friend’ see what he had done, what he had planned to do if he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. The shorter albino gave out a terrified squeak then dashed out of the office.

Sighing to himself, the albino replicant followed after his smaller counterpart. However, instead of going after him and killing the human like he had originally planned, he entered another elevator and rode it up to the next floor. He’d seen the schematics for the Kaiba tower and noticed an area had been erased from the original blueprints. Suspecting the answers he’d so desperately sought and murdered for lay in that erased section, he eagerly searched the floor.

Upon finding a door with an elaborate keypad lock, the albino replicant began to punch in key combinations at an inhuman speed. Mere seconds later, the door hissed open and Bakura sprang into the room beyond. His glowing chocolate eyes widened when he realized he was in a very sophisticated cryogenics lab. A single frosted glass coffin like device stood proudly in the center of the lab.

The replicant suddenly felt a chill run down his bioengineered spine, one that wasn’t from the fatal cold of the room. Bakura rushed over to the ‘coffin’ and squinted at the plaque it bore. On the now brittle metal were only two words, a name – Seto Kaiba.

Bakura smashed his fist against the capsule, shattering the glass and causing the various machines to let out enormous screams of protest. The replicant let out a scream of his own, adding to the growing cacophony. Bakura then began to laugh maniacally as the irony finally hit him. He had been the creation of a replicant! All of them had!

 

*************************************************************************

 

Atem sat in his several years old hovercar, going over the latest report from Marik. The replicants had struck again, the head of the Kaiba Corporation was dead. But what had him floored was that Kaiba himself had been a replicant. It appeared that the real Seto Kaiba had contracted some kind of weird disease while working on the replication process several years ago and had ordered himself frozen before he could die.

_‘No wonder he didn’t want me to VK him,’_  the Blade Runner thought.  _‘Didn’t do him much good did it?_ ’

Putting aside the FAX, he quickly activated his in-car vidphone and dialed the number he’d been given. A few moments later, a cherubic version of his own face appeared on the screen. “Hello?” the boy asked nervously.

Atem bit back the eerie feeling he got from seeing the replicant and cleared his throat. “Is Ryou there?” he asked, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

“Who is it?” the boy asked again, still nervous.

“Ed Elric,” the Blade Runner replied, “I’m an old friend of Ryou’s.”

The boy glared at him then promptly closed the connection, leaving the man staring at a dead, black screen. “That’s no way to treat a friend,” the spiky haired man quipped with mock hurt. Sighing again, Atem turned on the ignition and drove off to the residence of one Ryou Bakura.

 

**************************************************************

 

After carefully making his way to Ryou Bakura’s apartment, the Blade Runner pulled out his gun and warily pushed his way through the door which had been suspiciously left ajar. “Okaeri, Ryou-san,” two odd looking toys said in unison before turning around and walking back to wherever they came from. Atem stalked throughout the large apartment, jumping slightly at the sound of laughter and voices.

The Blade Runner let out a tiny breath of relief when he saw that the noise was coming from a room full of dolls and mannequins.  _‘This guy must really like toys,’_  he mused. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he gingerly pulled at the tarp covering a small bundle on one of the room’s tables. He jumped away upon seeing the spiky hair of his duplicate. He raised his gun, ready to shoot, but the figure made no sound, nor did it move. Eyeing it carefully, the spiky haired man noticed that its eyes were closed. Apparently it was like one of those antique dolls that closed its eyes whenever laid down.

He stepped closer to the ‘doll’, believing it to be of no immediate threat. He’d forgotten the old saying ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ Within seconds, he found himself flying backwards across the room and out into the adjacent room.

Before he could register what had just happened, a red, black and gold blur flew at him, screaming like a banshee. Atem struggled to get up only to find that his neck was now being gripped by the boy’s thighs. He grunted as he desperately tried to escape the rapidly increasing vise like hold the replicant had on him.

Yugi growled as he continued to squeeze the man’s neck and began twisting the Blade Runner’s head around in an attempt to break it. Atem gave off a pained grunt and for the first time in his life was grateful for the intense physical training he had undergone in his younger years. He forced his body to go limp and the replicant’s momentum turned him around so that he was now lying on his back. Yugi snarled in frustration and shoved his fingers up the man’s nose, making the spiky haired Blade Runner gasp desperately for breath.

Seeing that this was getting him nowhere, Yugi disgustedly released his death grip and threw Atem onto the dusty and dirty floor. He then dashed several feet across the much larger room only to spin around. Screaming like a banshee, the shorter replicant began a series of flips with the intent of using the momentum to crush his attacker when he landed on him.

Realizing this was no time to lying down on the job, Atem scrambled up onto his feet as quick as he could and stepped out of the way with no time to spare. The poor replicant continued flipping past him and crashed through the wall. A pair of enormous mechanical teddy bears came crashing down on the boy, pinning him to the floor. A silvery blue bowling ball and a medium sized can of paint shortly followed and hit Yugi on the head, knocking him out.

Believing his job to be finished, Atem gave a few hurried gasps and began to make his way out of the apartment.  _‘That’s it,’_ he grumbled to himself,  _‘After this last one, I’m definitely quitting. I can’t do this anymore. Not after…’_ He refused to finish that thought. There was still the leader replicant to retire. While it was still loose, he really couldn’t afford to let his mind wander like that.

The sound of approaching footsteps from the hall alerted him to the presence of another person. Whether it was the apartment’s owner returning or the last remaining replicant, he didn’t know. He dashed over to a door facing the main entry and ducked behind it, his gun at the ready should it indeed be the last of his targets.

 

******************************************************************

 

Bakura’s eyes narrowed at the open door. He knew something must have had happened for Yugi would NEVER disobey his order to stay put. The albino replicant carefully stepped through the door, half aware of the danger lurking inside. He knew whoever had come there was still around, but his main concern at the moment was the youngest and smallest of his group.

Fearing the worst when he saw the gaping hole in the wall, Bakura dashed over to the mechanical teddy bears and threw them aside as if they had been made of paper. Yugi laid underneath, synthetic blood pooling under his head. The taller replicant balled his hands into shaking fists at his side.  _‘Whoever did this is going to suffer!’_  he swore.  _‘I promise you that little one.’_  Bakura swiped at his eyes angrily before bending down and placing a less than chaste kiss on the unconscious Yugi’s lips.

After composing himself, the albino replicant strode through the hole several moments later. Atem gulped and trembled briefly before firing at the slightly taller man, missing him by mere inches. “That’s not very nice,” scolded the albino from somewhere out in the hall, “shooting at an unarmed man. And here I thought you were supposed to be the ‘good’ guy.”

Atem ran out into the hall, still brandishing his gun. His crimson eyes darted to and fro only to find no sign of the replicant.

“Come on, hunter. Show me what you’ve got,” came the replicant’s sneering voice. Atem took a few more apprehensive steps past a water soaked wall, ignoring the leaking pipe protruding from the ceiling above. He startled when a pale hand suddenly came crashing through the wall and latched onto the wrist holding the weapon.  He yelled in pain as the vise like grip increased and yanked his arm forcibly back through the wall, creating an even larger hole and a heck of a lot of dust to come cascading down over him.

On the other side of the wall, Bakura was glaring murderously at the Blade Runner’s hand, still held firmly in his grasp. “I bet you’re real proud of yourself now, aren’t you  _little_ man?” he spat. He then wrenched the gun out of Atem’s hand and pried the offending appendage open. Grabbing a finger between two of his own, the albino replicant viciously bent it backwards, snapping the bone in two. “That was for Malik,” he snarled, “And this…” He repeated the process with another of the shorter man’s digits. “is for Yugi.”

Satisfied with the two yells of agony coming from the killer, Bakura smirked as he put the gun back into the Blade Runner’s damaged hand. “I’m right here hunter,” he jeered through the hole, “But you’ve got to shoot straight!”

Atem’s eyes flared in anger, glowing slightly in the dim, almost non existent light. Shoving the gun back through the hole, he fired a shot at the replicant. Bakura deftly dodged the bullet, managing to survive yet again unscathed. “Tsk, tsk, I said straight you fool!” he mocked scolding, enjoying himself immensely. “My turn! I’m in a sporting mood, so I’ll give you a bit of a head start. One, two…”

Seeing that he was in serious crapola here, Atem dashed down the hall, not bothering to look back. He needed to get away from the obviously psychotic replicant as he could; find a place where he could have the advantage. When he realized that the albino wasn’t immediately chasing after him, the Blade Runner leant panting against the wall and began working on his broken fingers. He sucked in a deep breath and bent the mutilated digits back into place, setting the bones. He let out an agonized scream as he did it, not caring if Bakura had heard him or not.

“I’m coming to get you, hunter,” came the replicant’s sing-song voice from somewhere in the abandoned building. “Four, five, still alive!”

The spiky haired man desperately ran through the upper floors of the building, still searching for the perfect spot. He found a few windows leading to the ledges outside, but they were heavily boarded up and covered with unusually strong chicken wire. Seeing that there was no other way, Atem began climbing up on the furniture of one of the many dilapidated apartments and started punching his way through the ceiling.

Luck was with him today, it would seem for a few minutes later, the badly damaged plaster and rotted wood gave way and he was able to clamber up into the flooded apartment above. He shivered, but not from the pouring rain leaking through. Below, he could hear the faint howls and maniacal laughter of the albino and it was getting closer.

 

**********************************************

 

Meanwhile, Bakura had paused his pursuit of the Blade Runner and was now hunched up against a wall. He grunted in pain as the fist he had made suddenly refused to loosen up. “No! Not yet!” he pleaded. He needed to get his revenge for Yugi. He just couldn’t let it end like this! He grasped his stiffened hand and forced the fingers to unclench themselves.

 

************************************************************

 

Atem panted as he sat down on the busted toilet, desperate to catch his breath. Suddenly the tiled wall next to him exploded and Bakura’s head leered at him from the hole it had made. “You can’t play unless you’re alive,” the replicant jeered. “If you’re not going to play, I’m going to have to kill you.”

The spiky haired Blade Runner shot up and ran from the flooded bathroom. Grunting, Bakura yanked his head out of the wall and began chasing after him. Atem saw that some pipes were sticking out of a wall and yanked a section of the lead tubing out.

“Six, seven, go to hell or go to heaven,” called the replicant, a deranged look on his otherwise handsome face.

Deciding it was now or never, Atem gathered all his remaining strength and swung at the taller replicant with all his might. The pipe landed with a metallic thud that echoed through the apartment against the paler man’s head and chest.

“Yes that’s the spirit!” crowed the insane replicant.

Atem then dropped the pipe as Bakura was knocked into a window, shattering it. Not waiting to see if he was going to fall out or not, the Blade Runner made a mad run for it and forced his way through another window and out onto one of the many ledges. The spiky haired man steeled himself and began shimmying away.

However, his luck had apparently run out for just as he was about to reach a window around the corner, Bakura’s leg shot through the glass and moments later, the replicant leaned out. “That hurt, by the way,” he said. “Very irrational of you.”

“Really?” Atem quipped as he began to climb towards the roof in a desperate attempt to escape.

“Not to mention not very honorable either,” Bakura shot back. “Just where do you think you’re going?” The Blade Runner looked down at him and gave him a cocky smile as he continued to climb, which in turned earned a laugh from his psychotic target. The replicant watched him a few more minutes until he saw that Atem was almost at the roof. He then pulled himself back inside and headed for the top of the building.

 

**********************************************************

 

 

            He was beyond exhausted. It had probably been the most tiring day of work he’d ever had in his entire career as a Blade Runner. No one had done what he had done. No one had ever been able to retire so many replicants in such a short amount of time. NO ONE. Most Blade Runners usually gave themselves some breathing time between retirements due to the increasing possibility of on the job nervous breakdowns. After all most replicants were in NO hurry to go anywhere since they would be under the illusion that they hadn’t been found out.

            Atem lay panting heavily on the building’s roof for what seemed hours to him. He was just too tired to even bother to move out of the rain that never ceased to fall in this hellish city of his. After what seemed like eternity to him, the spiky haired man reluctantly got up and began making his way across the slick roof. He let out a gasp upon almost colliding with a smirking Bakura.

            Turning around, Atem quickly ran back the way he came, slipping and sliding on the wet concrete. Righting himself, the shorter man then attempted to leap across the alley and onto the adjacent roof. Once again, luck proved not to be on his side any longer and he missed and found himself clinging desperately to a girder that had been sticking out from the neighboring building.

            Atem continued to struggle but sheer exhaustion and the slickness of the metal made it nigh impossible to haul himself back up onto the roof and relative safety. Bakura glanced over at the struggling man briefly then turned away and successfully making the jump across. The albino replicant leaned down over the still struggling Blade Runner. “It’s really something isn’t it?” he asked, “Living in fear. That’s how we slaves have felt. Each and every day of our disgusting pathetic lives.”

            Bakura continued to leer at the exhausted man, watching him intently as he fought for his life. Soon enough the battle to hold on was over and the shorter of the two’s grip failed and the spiky haired man prepared himself for the inevitable pain and crunching of his bones as he hit the pavement several hundred feet below.

            But such a messy and ignoble death never came. He stared in utter shock at the pale hand gripping his wrist in a firm and vise like hold. Before Atem knew what was happing, he found himself on his back on the roof of the building he’d tried to jump to. He blinked confusedly at the replicant. Why had he saved his life?! It just didn’t make sense. He was out to kill him after all. Why help the very person who was out to murder you?!

            The shorter man gave Bakura a short nod of gratitude, earning him a nod in return. The albino replicant panted slightly, exhausted from all the running around he’d done and sat down next to his pursuer.

            “I’ve seen things,” he began, closing his chocolate eyes as he began reminiscing, “you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost… in time… like tears in rain.” The usually stoic replicant choked back a sob as he fought against the falling tears mingling with the rain as they fell from his eyes.

            The Blade Runner gave him a sympathetic nod, finally understanding why this ‘machine’ had saved his life. He had wanted someone to remember him after he was gone. He just didn’t want to fade away into the oblivion of forgetfulness like so many of his brethren had over the past decades. He wanted proof that there really had been a Bakura Tozoukuou, a Yugi, a Malik, and a Katsuya Jounouchi.

            Atem could see that Bakura’s time was almost up. All the albino had done up to now had been the actions of a desperate man trying to prolong his life as long as he possibly could. The Blade Runner could understand that, all too well. He had been doing the same thing during their ‘duel’. He was definitely going to call it quits. He saw no point in retiring a replicant that was on its last legs, it was too him redundant and not needed.

            He stood and made to leave when a flash of red, black and gold rushed by the corner of his eye. Spinning around he saw the petit copy of himself had draped himself over the albino. Tired chocolate eyes lazily opened and the tiniest of smiles appeared on his lips. “Yugi,” he said weakly. Using the last of his strength, Bakura wrapped his arms around his smaller companion.

            “I don’t want…” the Atem double started, crystalline tears flowing from bright, yet dimming, amethyst eyes.

            “Time to die,” Bakura whispered resignedly, glad the little one was there at his final moments of life.

            Yugi dug his face into the taller replicant’s chest, sensing that there was no use fighting anymore. “W-Wait for me?” he begged.

            “Always,” the albino answered.

            The shorter replicant choked back a sob, but managed to give a tiny nod. Atem couldn’t help being choked up himself. Who wouldn’t after witnessing such a tender and tragic scene? Once again he turned and walked away from the two dying replicants, letting them live their final moments in peace and with dignity.

            He startled upon seeing the hover car on the far end of the roof, Otogi leaning quietly against it. “You did the right thing,” he said, “A real man’s job if you ask me.” Atem couldn’t say a thing, still affected by the love the two replicants had so clearly displayed only moments ago. “So you done?”

            “Yeah,” the Blade Runner finally said, his voice hoarse and in desperate need of a drink, “Finished.”

            Otogi nodded and tossed him the gun he didn’t realize he had dropped. “It’s a shame he won’t live, but then again who does?” The raven haired Blade Runner then got into the car and flew off.

            Realizing who his sometime rival had meant, he dashed down into the building and out onto the street fifteen minutes later. Practically jamming the key the ignition of his own car, he coaxed the practically ancient vehicle to wake up and sped off to his home.

 

**********************************************************************

 

            The spiky haired Blade Runner leapt from the elevator, drawing his gun. So far so good, the door to his apartment was still shut. Sliding the keycard into the slot, he then cautiously opened the door. “Noa?” he called, a tinge of fear and worry in his deep voice, as his crimson eyes darted about for any sign of Otogi’s presence.

            “Noa?” he called again after not receiving any response. “Noa?”

            Seeing a sheet covered figure lying on his bed, Atem forced himself to approach it. Lifting the sheet with a shaking hand, his gun still clutched tightly in his other, the Blade Runner fought back the fear he was feeling at the sight of the motionless boy. Bending down, he pressed his cheek against Noa’s slightly open mouth, releasing a sigh of relief when he felt the replicant’s breath against his skin.

            Noa turned over onto his back and blinked sleepily at the man hovering over him. He wanted to ask what was wrong, it was clearly written on Atem’s face that something was up, but decided to wait until the taller man was ready to explain.

            “Do you love me?” Atem asked not bothering to hide the anxiety in his voice.

            “I love you,” Noa replied, giving him a small and somewhat unsure smile.

            “Do you trust me?” the spiky haired Blade Runner asked once more.

            “Of course I do,” the mint green haired boy said.

            Atem gave the boy a desperate and passionate kiss before yanking him out of the bed. “We’re leaving. Now,” was all he said in explanation.

            The shorter replicant didn’t really understand what had happened, but went along with his taller lover’s sudden request. He said nothing as he gathered his coat and put it on. Atem stood grimly at the door, his gun aimed at the elevator. Noa started to approach, but the Blade Runner stopped him with a single hand gesture. After several tense moments and no appearance from the raven haired Blade Runner, Atem waved the boy over and headed to the elevator.

            The spiky haired man jumped at the slight crunching sound the boy’s footsteps had made and he went back to his door. Lying just outside and barely noticeable was the crushed origami form of a unicorn. Picking it up, he stared at it remembering Otogi’s words to him.

            He understood now, even though Otogi had been to his apartment, he had let Noa live, figuring it wasn’t worth his time given a replicant’s life span. It was either that or he was giving his now truly retired rival a parting gift of sorts. With  _that_  man, who could tell?

            Nodding to himself, he strode back over to the elevator and joined the boy who had been patiently holding it for him.

 

 

~Fin~


End file.
